Precious Commodities
by shepsgirl72
Summary: When Sheppard and his team are abducted and imprisoned, he promises to get Teyla home to her son. Little does he know just how far from home they are. Shep Whump (of course), with action and adventure and plenty of sci fi. Sheppard and team, plus a whole host of OCs - oh, and a helping of Dusty Mehra for good measure. Rated 'T' for violence and some strong language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : Unfortunately, as previously stated, Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me, because if it did it would still be on our screens! Enough said... **

**Many thanks to Sterenyk Strey and lizlou57 for doing their usual beta work for me. It's very much appreciated, just as it always is. All remaining mistakes are mine because I can't resist tweaking even after the beta work is done!**

 **This is a 30 chapter story (unless it grows during editing!) and is the first instalment of a two part saga. Updates will be once a week, mostly on Mondays.**

 **So, on with the story, and...enjoy! :)**

 **Precious Commodities**

 **Chapter One**

'I wasn't flirting, Rodney,' Sheppard insisted, casually scanning the HUD for signs of trouble as they approached the space bound Stargate floating above M4L 925. All clear – no bad guys in sight, and nothing but stars streaking by to witness their passage. Just the way he liked it.

The mission had been a cake-walk – good food, pleasant company, and all within a short walking distance of the spot where they had concealed their craft, so there was no reason to suspect the flight home shouldn't be the same. But unfortunately, there was a drawback to having such an easy day. The lack of anything else to worry about made the pure scepticism oozing from McKay in the seat behind him even more palpable.

'No, of course not,' Rodney scoffed, his tone fairly dripping with derision. 'The big smiles and nauseating flattery were all perfectly legitimate negotiating techniques, right?'

Sheppard shrugged, non-committal. 'I was just being friendly. You should try it some time,' he replied innocently, knowing a quip like that would only fuel the fire of Rodney's already smouldering annoyance. Even so, he couldn't help but do it. Rodney-baiting was like an addiction for him sometimes; he knew he shouldn't do it, but the buzz he got was just too good to pass up. Another side-effect of an easy day…no trouble approaching made him want to go looking for it.

He glanced over at Teyla sitting beside him in the co-pilot seat. She gave him a brief smile, a minor acknowledgement of his joke, but didn't step in to save him from further abuse. He suspected she thought he deserved it, though she didn't say as much. Unlike Rodney, she was far too tactful for that. But Teyla had a way of looking at him that made him regret his actions without a single word being necessary. And that regret was beginning to gnaw at his conscience already…

Okay, so on a rethink maybe he _had_ flirted a little more than necessary, but it wasn't often he got the chance to practice his skills these days. Had it been professional? Perhaps not entirely…but no one had gotten hurt and that was always a plus. Most of their missions were a lot tougher than the meet 'n' greet they'd just attended. Woolsey didn't send them on these "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" trips too often these days. He'd mentioned something to do with it being outside of McKay's skill set. Code for Woolsey not wanting McKay to upset the natives, he figured. He couldn't argue with that logic. Rodney was a genius with anything technological, but did have a habit of messing up on the social stuff.

'Oh, really? And I suppose it was just a coincidence that you were being more friendly to Giselta than her older, wider, uglier sister, hmm?' McKay challenged, not at all convinced by his argument.

Sheppard couldn't suppress his smirk this time as he glanced back over his shoulder. 'Was she pretty? I didn't notice,' he lied, returning his attention to the view through the windshield.

He could almost feel the eye-roll McKay gave behind him. 'Urgh! You are so predictable.'

True enough, Giselta had been an absolute knock-out. Petite with pretty blonde locks that tapered in at the nape of her neck, curves in all the right places, and wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination. There was no way he could resist that. It would have been like fasting at an all you can eat buffet.

'I got us access to the device, didn't I?' Sheppard protested, that sense of regret making him defensive now. 'Giselta told me she knew how to find it, so I...sweetened her up a little, that's all.'

'Yes, that's all,' Rodney mocked, practically stuffing the ZPM up Sheppard's nose. 'And a fat lot of good it did us; it's all but drained. Getting back to Pegasus used up almost all the power left in the ZedPMs Todd gave us. I give it a couple of weeks tops before this thing's spent, too.'

'Which gives us a whole two weeks to find another one,' Sheppard replied, putting a positive spin on it.

Rodney only huffed in disgust.

Sheppard let his friend's attitude slide. It had been a long and tedious day for very little reward, other than the extremely easy on the eye Giselta, who had insisted he was welcome back any time. _He_ , not _them_. And _that_ was why Rodney was sore at him. She was a hot blonde, McKay's favourite kind of woman, and she hadn't even looked at him twice. But whether McKay liked his methods or not, two weeks of juice when the other ZPMs failed was better than nothing. So, it _had_ been worth it. That was what he was going to keep telling himself anyway. That way, this wasn't just another wasted mission when they should be shoring up defences against a future Wraith attack.

They'd been back in the Pegasus Galaxy a full six weeks now, and it hadn't come as any great surprise to discover that in the two months they'd been absent the Wraith had taken culling to a whole other level. They had been busy gathering supplies – a delicate way of describing their human food source – and replenishing their strength, ready to resume their domination of the galaxy. But now Atlantis and its crew were back and they were ready to deal the Wraith's plans for galactic domination some real damage. The IOA had given the go ahead to introduce the serum Keller had devised into the Wraith ranks any which way they could to rid the Wraith of their pesky need to gorge on human life forces. And since word would undoubtedly spread of their endeavours once the transformations had begun, and the Wraith would come knocking – or rather pounding – on their door to try and stop them, they desperately needed more ZPMs to power city defences before they could go ahead with deploying the serum. So, in terms of that proposal, he supposed the ZPM they'd just collected truly was next to useless. The Wraith were unlikely to get tired of bombarding Atlantis in such a short window of time.

He hated it when he had to admit McKay was right…so he didn't.

Ronon yawned and stretched in the seat behind Teyla, a deep rumbling noise that left the rest of them yawning in its wake, instantly diffusing the tension. Yep, it really had been a long, boring day...flirtations aside. Sheppard was ready for a hot shower and a big meal...after the customary post-mission medical checks and debriefing. He inwardly groaned, knowing what he wanted wasn't mere minutes away through the Stargate, but most likely a couple of hours out of reach behind mounds of protocol and bureaucracy. Seemed like he'd have to grab a power bar and a coffee to keep him going as usual. Same old same old in the Pegasus galaxy…

'What is that?' Teyla asked, pointing to something that had suddenly appeared on the HUD display.

Sheppard squinted at it, not sure he liked what he saw. 'I don't know, but it wasn't there a second ago,' he replied, straightening up to full attention in his seat. It was the best answer he had, other than his gut instinct that their easy day was about to become anything but.

'Whatever it is, it looks big,' Ronon grunted, his seat creaking as he swung his feet down from the perch he'd popped them onto and leaned forward to take a better look.

'And it's gaining fast!' Rodney squeaked.

'I see that,' Sheppard snapped, mentally asking the jumper for more speed. The ship responded instantly, giving him everything she'd got. But it wasn't enough. The other ship was huge, which equalled more power, and was gaining more rapidly than they could accelerate away from it.

'Dial the gate!' he barked, hoping they might just make it through in time.

Teyla acted on his instruction without hesitation, dialling Atlantis and preparing to send through her IDC. In the distance, the Stargate flashed into view, the event horizon a brilliant blue-white beacon to safety, lying just a little too far away for comfort. But there was a chance they might make it through before their pursuers caught up. They'd succeeded with worse odds before.

'We're not going to make it!' Rodney shrieked.

Sheppard's heart sank. Or maybe not…

'Whoa…wait a minute. What the hell _is_ that thing?' McKay yelled, excited fascination suddenly overcoming his fear. 'It has an energy signature like nothing we've ever seen before. And it's bigger than a hive ship…way bigger! I think they might be using some form of near light-speed technology that's unlike anything we've seen anywhere else in this galaxy…or the Milky Way for that matter.'

'Fascinating,' Sheppard grunted, making evasive manoeuvres. He hoped if they couldn't outfly that ship, maybe they could confuse it.

'That thing's gotta take some powering up…maybe we should try to make contact,' McKay urged, suddenly changing his tack.

'Are you kidding?!' Sheppard yelled back at him, feeling the strain as their ship struggled to find more speed while he wound his way toward the waiting Stargate.

'No…isn't this exactly why we go out exploring…to find new technologies?' the scientist reminded him.

'Not when that new technology is bearing down on us at breakneck speed and we have no way of knowing if its owners are friendly!' Sheppard shot back at him.

'Well, they haven't fired on us yet.'

'Yet…' Sheppard echoed, focusing all his energy on getting them through that 'gate.

'But they have advanced technology…who knows, it might be something we can adapt to power Atlantis' defences.'

'Much as I'd love to hang around and figure it out with you–' Sheppard was cut short as the jumper came to a complete and sudden halt. Everything was still running, but they weren't moving forward any more. In fact, they were beginning to drift backwards.

'A tractor beam? You're kidding!' Rodney gasped, his eyes bulging with a mixture of exhilaration and panic. 'This would be so cool if it wasn't locked onto us.'

'Yes, Rodney, it would. Now, instead of geeking out, how about you find some way of disrupting it?' Sheppard grunted. He asked the jumper for even more power, putting her into overdrive, but even at those unrecommended levels of output the craft was heading back towards their pursuers.

Certain now that they were in danger, Sheppard ordered the jumper to fire a couple of drones, watching them cross over each other in front of their ship and then wind their way back toward the huge craft now bearing down on them. The HUD showed other craft firing an energy pulse in response that deadened the drones and left them floating aimlessly several hundred yards off their hull.

'We're screwed!' McKay whimpered, taking the words right out of his mouth.

Inside his head, Sheppard felt the jumper scream in distress as it struggled to pull free. He was over-stressing the engines. If he didn't cut them the ship was going to blow. Sheppard ordered everything to shut down. If they were lucky, they'd been picked up friendly travellers looking to strike up a conversation. If not, they had no option but to stay put and fight.

'Atlantis, this is Sheppard. We're unable to return. A large, unidentified craft has locked – '

The Stargate shut down, cutting his message short. Whoever was on their tail had overridden their dialling command. Over the following minutes all they could do was watch helplessly as the enormous vessel moved over them and towed them in, closing a huge set of bay doors beneath them with a metallic clunk that shook the jumper hard.

'What do we do now?' Rodney's ragged, panic-stricken voice asked him.

Sheppard rose from his seat and snatched up his P-90, holding it at chest level but not aiming it. Teyla did the same as Ronon drew his magnum, letting his arm hang at his side, muscles tensed for a quick reaction. The cake-walk was over. And as necessary he, Teyla and Ronon had seamlessly slipped into fight mode without any need for communication. They all sensed it. Trouble was coming. 'Now we hope they plan to make nice, or we show them that we don't take too kindly to being abducted.'

And that was exactly their plan until the rear hatch forcibly dropped and they were hit with a pulse of brilliant white light that knocked them all right off their feet, leaving them squirming in agony until their senses could cope with no more and they slipped into blissful darkness...

oooOOOooo

 _6 months later..._

Mehra jerked awake to find herself enveloped in virtual pitch-blackness. Slumped in a half-sitting, half-lying position, she gradually came to her senses, straightening out her aching joints and wondering why everything hurt so much. The last thing she remembered was being on patrol down on M5T-568, trying to look unfazed while ignoring the local kids who were giving her grief over being a female and carrying a gun. Apparently, only the men folk there could hunt and protect the village. Well, screw that. She didn't need any man to take care of her or tell her what to do.

Sometimes Dusty hated her job exploring the primitive worlds of Pegasus. In most cases, women were expected to keep house and have kids, like it was the dark ages, which she supposed it was to them since the Wraith didn't let anyone advance much beyond that level of development. Well, not her. She had a choice…and she would choose a P-90 over a screaming brat any day. Even if the P-90 was in someone else's hands and pointed straight at her.

After a few moments of self-pity as she straightened out her aching bones, the memory of what had actually happened on that patrol popped back into her head, along with a single thought: _Holy crap!_

A hurried attempt to scramble to her feet resulted in her bumping her head on something solid just inches above her, a collision that set loose an array of colourful stars in her vision. Well, at least it broke up the blackness, she supposed. Groping around in the dark, she traced her fingertips across four solid walls and a low ceiling that surrounded her, all forming a box no more than five feet square by her estimation. It appeared she was in some sort of crate. At the top of the walls narrow slits allowed minimal light and air in, and, on peering through them, she saw a number of other similar crates stacked around her. They looked like animal transportation boxes, but the voices screaming and sobbing from within each container told her exactly what was inside them. Were some of them her teammates?

'Major Teldy! Proctor! Drewry! You there?'

A thump on the outside of her crate was the only response she got. So, these bastards didn't like noise, huh? Well, then they'd kidnapped the wrong girl. She pounded her fist on the crate right back at them. There were more sounds of movement outside, but she couldn't see anything clearly. Her military training kicked in. If taken hostage, she should try to engage her captors in conversation, make them see her as a person and not just an object. Form a bond that would make it harder for them to harm or kill her...unless they shot her to shut her up. Ah, hell. It was worth the risk.

'Who's out there?' she called. Another thump answered her, on the top of her crate this time, but it didn't deter her from carrying on. 'What do you want with us? What are your demands?'

A face loomed up to the ventilation slots and blocked her view – a face with no recognisable human qualities. A guttural rumble rattled deep within its throat, at least she presumed it was its throat, and she instinctively flinched as far as she could from it, pressing herself against the back of her prison. Its breath smelled as rank as anything she'd ever encountered, and in her line of work she'd encountered some pretty appalling things. Filthy peasants, animal crap, every bodily fluid imaginable, and decaying, Wraith-drained corpses were among the list, but this smelled far worse than any of those – more like a combination of all of them wrapped up in one. Okay, so, it was ugly. Ugly didn't mean tough. Ugly didn't mean it had her beat.

Feeling suddenly weak, she sat back down again. Her face throbbed down the left side, and when she tentatively touched it, she could feel a mixture of dried blood and grit caked on it. She'd been shot...she remembered it now. Not with a bullet...with some kind of fancy-schmancy stun weapon. And apparently, she had also face-planted. So maybe she'd hit her head and this was all just some weird trip conjured up by her concussed brain. Yeah...that had to be it because she had never seen anything like these critters before. They were just some messed-up hallucination while her brain took a time-out to get its act together.

Yet, try as she might to tell herself this was all in her mind her gut was telling her otherwise, and her gut wasn't prone to flights of fancy. So maybe not an hallucination then? Might be best to go with the worst-case scenario and assume this crap was real. Ugly aliens, claustrophobic confinement and all. This was the Pegasus Galaxy. It really wasn't that much of a stretch.

Terrified cries and whimpers came from the other crates, punctuated by the same thumps her own calls had provoked. Underlying all that reverberated a low engine sound, more distant than their voices, but somehow immense in its cadence. It reminded her of the sounds she'd heard aboard the Daedalus, but much, much deeper. Deeper suggested bigger. They were being transported somewhere in a big ass ship, bigger than anything she'd been aboard before. That'd be sweet if she thought she could fight her way out of there when she was ready. But right now, she couldn't even hold her head up straight. The odds weren't exactly in her favour.

As the journey went on, a burning thirst grasped her throat and hunger complained in her stomach. Those were feelings she could override. It wasn't the first time she'd faced short supplies. Hunger was just a minor inconvenience. She had to stay focused.

Intermittently, shadows fell across her as her captors passed by her tiny air vents. Sometimes they stopped and peered in at her, but not often. She did nothing more to catch their attention, a growing sense of trepidation now telling her that it wasn't wise to upset the huge, butt-ugly aliens...not without backup. In all her time in Pegasus the only other weird looking critters she'd come across, not including the Wraith, were Michael's experiments-gone-wrong. These guys were way scarier, and she prided herself on not scaring easily.

After a while, more details from her mission came back to her and the events leading up to her abduction replayed more clearly in her mind. That morning, she'd accompanied her team on a typical Pegasus Galaxy meet 'n' greet, just another backwoods village with almost zero tech other than a few relics left behind when the Ancients had last visited the planet. She'd been posted outside some ramshackle old hut while Major Teldy and the others had gone inside to negotiate a deal for some plant that had apparently _amazing_ medicinal qualities...at least she thought it was something like that but she'd shut down pretty much as soon as Proctor had slipped into her usual medical mumbo-jumbo. For some reason, she always got left outside during these talks. Probably because she had the best eyes and ears in the team so could keep watch better than the others. She didn't mind. Negotiations were mind-numbingly dull anyway. She'd take a shootout with a Wraith over wrangling for crumby old leaves any day.

So, she'd stood out in the sun, wondering what was on the menu for dinner that evening and chewing a stick of Orbit, watching the tree line surrounding the village for signs of trouble or suspicious activity. Nothing had seemed out of place. Everyone in the village was just going about their business, drawing water from the well, feeding their animals, washing clothes...all the mundane stuff these people seemed to excel at. All that along with the usual jibes about her being unworthy to carry the gun she was brandishing from several young males, because she was a girl. Boy, was she ever glad she'd joined the military and not followed her downtrodden mom into the role of homemaker. She was _so_ not domestic goddess material. Any man who ever dared complain to her that his dinner wasn't on the table would find himself wearing it…or worse.

She'd been pondering how best to prove she was way worthier than the brats giving her grief when she'd noticed the adult villagers nearest to her had stopped moving and were now looking in her direction wearing expressions of utter horror. She stroked at her hair. Was it a mess or something? She was sure she'd tied it back securely this morning, but it had been kind of windy on the walk in. Then the kids were looking scared too…backing away and quaking. She seriously doubted the stink-eye she'd given them had resulted in that response. Only then did the creeping sensation of someone standing right behind her demand her full attention. Okay, so they weren't looking at her, rather at whoever was sneaking up on her…no doubt some village idiot or other planning to put her in her place. Well, whoever it was was opening themselves up to a whole world of hurt if they tried any funny business. She'd spun, arm pulled back to fling a right hook if necessary, to find the biggest son-of-a-bitch cockroach in history pointing a gun at her. With no time to secure her grip on her weapon she'd followed through with the punch, her fist smacking into the solid chest plate of its exoskeleton. And then it had fired on her and everything had gone black real fast.

Dusty rubbed at her grazed knuckles, realising they still hurt from the blow she'd wasted on that fugly bug critter. _Should have tried for the gun_. It couldn't have ended any worse.

After what seemed like an age, the sound of the engines changed and Dusty's crate began to tremble, forcing her to focus on what was happening in the here and now. Vast metallic clunks and groans followed, and finally, everything thumped to a graceless halt, followed by a long, slowly fading hiss of hydraulics.

She edged back over to the slits in the wall of her box to take another look, seeing one of her captors moving around and checking the boxes. It was a strange and fantastic creature. It had what looked like six short legs supporting its lower body, and its upper torso reared up off the ground with two sets of long, spindly, multiple-jointed arms that ended in pincer-like hands with two claw-like fingers and an opposable third. In those hands, it carried a gun like the one she'd seen in her flashback. What she wouldn't give to get her hands on one of those.

Despite her initial fear and repulsion, the sight of it now calmed her. It looked so far removed from anything she'd ever seen that it made her more certain it couldn't be real. Perhaps this _was_ all some wild hallucination. She _had_ eaten some berries on the two-klick trek from the Stargate to the village that morning. Maybe they'd been bad. Teldy was always telling her she would get poisoned one day, but she couldn't help having a lightning fast metabolism. It made her hungry all the time and she got sick of pigging out on Power bars all day.

Another of its species came into view. It looked a shade smaller than the first, and because it turned in her direction, she got better view of its face. The surface looked hard and shiny, with two large lenses set almost on the side of its head. There was no evidence of a nose, and only a grill-like structure existed where she thought its mouth should be. Tubes emerged from two holes either side of the grill, going back over its shoulders and into a pack it wore on its back. It occurred to her that they were wearing masks. So, what did they really look like underneath them?

She saw the row of boxes opposite hers begin to move on a conveyor toward a huge hatchway that opened at the end of the bay. Numerous pairs of alarmed eyes stared out, and she wondered if any of them belonged to the rest of her team. It didn't seem likely because she was pretty damned sure they would be making more aggressive noises than the screams and whimpers she'd heard so far, especially Teldy. She was no one's fool.

Once the last crate in that row moved out of sight, her own cell began its steady progress toward the opening to the outside world.

The transport vessel sat in a landing area bathed in sunlight. Beyond the landing strip lay fields and trees that looked like any of numerous agricultural areas she'd seen. How come all planets looked like rural Canada? Then, across that picturesque scene, several gigantic, multi-wheeled vehicles trundled into view, their engines growling like a pack of angry animals patrolling their territory. As they slowed to a halt, more of those creatures came flooding out, hoisting the crates into the back of the enormous tank-like structures. Typical that one of the most technologically advanced species they'd come across in a long time had to go and abduct her. Why could they never be good guys?

Without first receiving any food or drink to revive them for the journey, they quickly found themselves on the move again.

The temperature inside her crate began to mount. From the box stacked beside hers, Dusty could hear another woman sobbing. Looking out, she met the tear-filled eyes of her neighbour. 'Hey…What's your name?' she called across to her.

After catching her breath, the woman replied, 'Valerie...Val.'

Valerie? That sounded oddly Earth-like for a Pegasus native, but she supposed it was bound to happen sometimes. 'Don't worry, Val. My name's Dusty and I'm a marine. I'm going to take care of you. Nothing bad will happen while I'm with you.'

'Thank you...thank you,' Valerie gasped before dissolving into floods of tears again.

Of course, Dusty had no way of fulfilling that promise, but her years of experience in the corps had taught her that even a few words of comfort could sooth the most horrific situation. If only somebody there would say something comforting to her.

The heat and lack of sustenance left her woozy now and, slumping with her head in her hands, she fought against the urge to empty out her pitiful stomach contents onto the floor of her cage. She didn't even realise she felt faint until she toppled sideways and hit her head hard on the wall…

oooOOOooo

Hidden behind a craggy outcrop overlooking the landing strip, two Birajan rebels watched the Kheprian drones load the transport vessels through their view enhancers. Bringing the scene into sharper focus, they observed them lugging the twenty crates onto the back of four armoured vehicles under the watchful gaze of swarms more Kheprian guards.

The heat reflected up in waves off the parched ground, distorting the vista as they took a rough headcount of the towering aliens. Forty-five, maybe even fifty of them carried out the operation, far more than they had ever witnessed before.

'This is a large intake,' Mishta muttered, zooming in for a better look. She could barely see anything through the slim breathing holes near the top of each box, but in her mind's eye could imagine those puny humans doing their best to steady themselves as their crates were all but thrown from one transport to another.

'It is indeed. They grow more adventurous with every trip,' Juroah agreed, wiping the dust from his own enhancers with his sleeve before checking the scene again for himself. 'They've stepped up security, too. Moving them in so many vehicles reduces their losses to the human-traders if they mount another ambush.'

'Hmmm.'

She sensed Juroah turn her way. 'You might as well say it. I know it's eating you up.'

'Well, what do you expect?' she rasped, narrowing her violet eyes at him. 'We were meant to take action months ago. Now, because of the ambush, it will be harder to get through Akalus' defences.'

Juroah gave her a casual and infuriating shrug. 'Then we shall just have to hope he doesn't find what he's looking for before the next few months are out.'

'The more humans they collect, the greater the chance there is he'll find exactly what he's looking for,' Mishta sighed, wondering if that very thing might be in any one of the boxes now being strapped into place on the desert trucks.

'Indeed.'

Mishta lowered her enhancers to look over at her companion, annoyed by his continued use of the word she'd long ago learned indicated he was only half-listening to her. 'We planned to take out their ship over a year ago. Higher security or not, we need to move now. The longer we leave it, the more opportunity Akalus has to find the human he seeks.'

She shifted as if to act, but Juroah caught her arm and gave her a sharp tug that pulled her back in place. 'Don't be foolish, Mishta,' he hissed, his lilac eyes flashing with anger. 'We only have hand weapons and minor incendiaries. How much damage do you think we could inflict before we're spotted and killed? Stay low and stay alive...live to fight another day when the odds are stacked more in our favour.'

'And what if one of those boxes contains our doom?' she demanded, furious to be treated like a hasty fool.

For a moment, Juroah was speechless, because he knew she made a good point. Then he hissed, 'If that is the case, there's still no point in dying. What use are you to our cause if you're dead?'

The transfer of the humans was swift, well-organised and over in minutes. Soon, the rear hatches of the transports were being secured ready for the journey ahead. As the transporters began to roll out on their thick, powerful, metal wheels, Juroah signalled for Mishta to follow him from their hiding place. They slipped and slid their way down on loose dirt and stones to a spot where they could conceal themselves from the road used by the Kheprians behind a wall of fallen boulders and observe their movements a while longer. Only then, once the dust had settled around them and he felt sure they were safe, did Juroah speak again.

'Besides, the plan has changed,' he whispered, his bronzed, leathery old face now sombre. 'The time draws ever closer when Akalus will put his plan into action. The Founders have been meeting to discuss our tactics and they no longer feel that destroying the Kheprian ship is a strong enough plan. Akalus grows in confidence and fury every day, and fear is a most persuasive emotion. The Kheprians came in more than one ship…they would simply deploy another at his instruction. The Founders believe we must take out the whole of Phylacos with Akalus in it. That's our only hope of stopping him entirely.'

'They want to kill Akalus?' Mishta's violet eyes grew wide and fearful, her tan complexion paling. 'If we fail, he'll turn his attention to us. There will be a terrible price to pay!'

'And if we don't kill him, the whole universe will pay the price,' he warned, pushing her down from the half-risen pose she had adopted. 'Have you forgotten the teachings?'

She rolled her eyes, pushing back her red tresses from her eyes as she glared at him. 'No, of course not. But as you say, he grows more powerful every day. How will we even get near Phylacos without his knowledge? He has eyes everywhere.'

'That's the part that troubles the Founders, and that's why we do not act.' Juroah tucked his enhancers into his coat and squinted at the primary sun through the dust-choked wind that whipped up around them. He pulled on his hood to cover his scaled head from the heat of its rays. 'It will be unimaginably hot in those crates, poor creatures.'

'With any luck, it will prove too hot.' Juroah cast her a withering glance, shaking his head. 'I would think far worse awaits them at their destination if they survive,' she scoffed without sympathy as she watched the transporters heading for the horizon.

Now, he nodded. 'You're right. They may only be humans, but they should not be treated so poorly – no offence, Mishta.'

She shrugged her indifference at her smaller comrade. As a Human-Birajan hybrid, she had grown used to brushing off insults about Akalus' prisoners. She'd heard them since she was a child, and they had little effect on her now. She mostly agreed with them anyway. Humans were weak-willed, pathetic victims. She had watched this operation being repeated time and time again, with their weeping and groaning and pleading cries always in accompaniment. Why did they show no defiance? Why did they not feel anger at the injustices meted out to them? All they did was cry and mewl…she could not muster one ounce of compassion for such wretched creatures.

'When we destroy Phylacos, I expect it will be a merciful release for those held inside.' Juroah headed back to their craft, a two-seater hover car that had seen better days as attested by its battered, paint-chipped exterior. But that decrepit body contained an engine envied across the region, and the rebels would not part with it for any amount of money. They had outrun many perimeter guards at Phylacos in it, and they hoped to outrun many more before it was done. He jumped in and slipped on his visor, his protection from the gritty breeze. 'Are you coming, Mishta?' he called to her, encouraging her to join him.

She shaded her eyes as she looked up at the suns. The primary hung high in the sky; nearly midrise, she estimated, and her stomach grumbled in support of her theory. It was time to head back to camp and take refreshments. It would be long after sunset before the humans would have the opportunity to eat. Her father had told them the routine inside Phylacos' cursed walls, his tales recounted around the campfire while he'd thought she slept filling her childhood self with feelings of utter desolation and despair whenever she listened to them. But her sympathy for the humans had waned as the day for Akalus to act inched closer. Those same stories now fuelled her ire...at both Akalus and the humans. Although she knew her emotions were irrational, she felt angry at these humans for coming to her planet and putting her world at risk. Not that they'd asked to be kidnapped, but she couldn't shake the idea that they should have been stronger...that they should have defended themselves more effectively against the Kheprian harvesting missions. What kind of a race gave up their loved ones so readily? Had they no defences at all?

She pushed her own view enhancers into her belt, and followed Juroah to their transport. As she slipped on her visor and pulled her hood over the tail of long red tresses tied high on her crown, he put the vehicle into forward drive and they headed back to camp to report what they had seen to the Founders.

No doubt they would procrastinate about this development for many hours to come. Procrastination was the only thing they seemed to excel at these days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Mehra woke this time to find an unfamiliar face looking down on her...a face she had seriously hoped was just a nightmare.

Okay…apparently, she was not that lucky.

The alien bug critter screeched something piercing at her that made her cover her ears in pure reflex. That wasn't the reaction it was looking for, though, and it grabbed her wrists with its pincers and tugged her hands away, repeating the cry. It took a moment for her to realise that the hideous sound was actually some messed up form of English...a very scratchy demand for her to 'Get up!'

The sheer size of the bug made her follow the instruction without question, a reaction she hadn't consciously even thought about, but rather something deeply buried in her innate survival instincts which told her that refusal could be a life or death thing.

Life was definitely the better choice. She wasn't ready to die just yet.

Once she was up the thing moved on to shout at some other poor, disoriented soul, dragging people whose legs could barely take their weight up to their feet and forcing them to stand, no matter how many times they collapsed to the floor again. Dusty had to wonder if it would kill these critters to offer them some water. They hadn't had any kind of refreshments in hours, and the whole experience in the overheated container had left her feeling weaker than she could remember ever feeling before. Water would go a long way to revitalising them and making them more able to comply. Sure, as hell would save on all the shrieking and pulling them around. Should she ask on their behalf? She'd always been more of a "point and shoot" kind of girl than an advocate. She usually left the talking and the problem solving to others and stuck to following instructions and killing bad guys. Today she was going to have to be her whole team rolled into one. This would not be easy. She took a deep breath and focused.

So, what would Major Teldy do?

She would tell them not to draw attention to themselves while scoping out the area to see what they had to work with.

At a quick glance, Mehra counted twenty humans gathered there, huddled together in the centre of a gigantic chamber. The structure reminded her of an aircraft hangar, but more roughly constructed, almost as if it was thrown together as cheaply as possible. Brick pillars supported metal girders, and roughly bolted sheets of metal formed the walls surrounding them. The roof also held large expanses of glass that let in the harsh sunlight and magnified the heat to the point of a sauna room without the humidity. Did no one on this planet ever get hot? Had they never heard of air conditioners?

Now assessing her present company, she assumed the other people around her were the humans she'd been transported with, an eclectic assortment of farmers, pen-pushers, socialites and homemakers by the look of them. They certainly didn't have a type that might mark them for selection, heck, they didn't even look as if they all came from the same galaxy. Most of them looked like they might be Pegasus locals, but one or two others looked like they wouldn't be amiss serving in a deli, or yelling down telephones on Wall Street. Yep she realised, giving a sharp suited guy the once-over, a handful of them definitely looked like they'd been snatched up from Earth, and not a single one of them gave off the vibe that they could be useful in a fight. It looked like if she planned to get out of there, she was going to have to do this on her own.

So, what gave? Who were these aliens? And what did they need with humans that they were prepared to travel all the way to Earth to get hold of them? Did the fact they had gone to so much trouble give her an advantage? Surely they didn't want her dead...which meant she might be able to push back and test for weaknesses in their defences...

She didn't have long to ponder that before the clustered humans were segregated into four separate groups. This time there were definitely physical types. Those in her section were young and athletic, whereas another group comprised of those of a more muscular persuasion, a bunch of mostly males who looked used to hard, physical work. Those of an older age bracket formed a third group, and the final few, those with fuller figures, were also banded together. She felt like they'd been herded and sorted like cattle. Something weird was going on and it immediately put her on high alert.

A moment later, their alien captors sprang into action, screeching barely recognisable orders for them to begin moving while prodding and poking each group in a different direction. She looked back over her shoulder as each party was bustled away, trying to mentally note the exits they were being pushed towards. She didn't know what she would do, but her hope was that somehow she would get free and round the others up for an escape attempt. Okay, so right now even a solo bid for freedom looked doomed to failure, but she was never one to give up easily. While she was still breathing, there was hope.

Once out of the hangar her group travelled down numerous dark corridors, illuminated by intermittent lighting cells she could hear buzzing like wasp nests as they approached them, until they were forced to halt outside a thick set of metal doors. When unlocked by one of their guards they pulled back to reveal a damp and dingy room that smelled of mold and maybe worse, the sort of place most people would call the environmental agency to cleanse before even considering stepping foot inside it. Despite that fact, Dusty and her group were pushed into it, no opportunity for argument allowed.

The floor was slippery with what looked like algae and she skidded across it, colliding with the back wall and grazing her cheekbone. Not that she paid it any notice. Bumps and scrapes were all part of the job. She wouldn't be much of a marine if she couldn't handle that. As she straightened up, she found her hands were now covered in a thick layer of greasy slime that made her stomach flip. She wiped it away on her BDUs, shuddering at the disgusting feel of it squishing out between her fingers. It was like baby snot, only twice as gooey. This was exactly why she'd never wanted kids. She didn't do goop.

As she turned toward the doorway, the only source of light in that desolate place, two of their captors ducked in through the opening and began to hose them down. The liquid slapped into them hard, knocking them off their feet with the sheer force of the volume escaping from their hoses in high-pressure jets. The substance felt thick and oily, and smelled rank. It invaded their eyes and mouths, choking and stinging its way over them in a sustained assault that left her breathless.

When they were completely saturated, the onslaught ended. While the others struggled in vain to get back to their feet, Dusty had the good sense to stay down to avoid further injury. It was impossible to stand in that slippery mess, so she wasn't about to try.

When they were ready for them to move on more creatures entered, grabbing each of them and dragging them back out into the corridor and on to another room another level down. There, their captors lifted them onto hard beds and strapped them down so they were unable to free themselves. The creatures withdrew to the periphery of the room, guard duty she guessed, and in hurried some more humanoid beings, built generally like their human charges, though smaller, and with eyes the most vivid shade of lilac she'd ever seen. Those eyes, though basically human in structure, had tiny pupils along with the unique colouring. Their noses were barely there, only a small protuberance with two minute nostrils, and their mouths were narrow and lipless. Their skin was dark tan and leathery, and where hair should have grown, there were large overlapping plates resembling scales, something that suggested a reptilian gene or two in their past if she wasn't mistaken.

Dusty's dehydrated and confused brain simply couldn't process what was going on around her as quickly as it was unfolding. This was insane. She'd been in Pegasus for around two years in total and had only ever seen the Wraith and Michael's hybrids looking anything other than human. The galaxy had seemed like it was populated by one preindustrial civilization after another, at least that was what Proctor grumbled about every time they'd set out to find a ZPM. How could there be two completely alien species she'd neither seen nor heard any mention of before collaborating here on this planet? Her logical mind simply wouldn't accept that fact. There had to be another explanation. She kept coming back to the thought that she must be unconscious and this was all some crazy, fever-fuelled delusion. She'd probably picked up some hokey Pegasus Galaxy virus that was messing with her head. Yep. that had to be it.

A sharp jab in her thigh soon had her rethinking that theory. Whoever or whatever these diminutive beings were, they were real and they were clearly used to handling syringes. The needle looked substantial, and, from the size of the cylinder attached to it, could deliver a hefty payload. The entry wound stung and bled out once it was withdrawn, but they made no attempt to clean it up, relying solely on her blood's ability to congeal to prevent any further loss. So much for bedside manner. Then again, she realised, taking in the grime and general disrepair of everything around her, their lack of empathy might be the least of her worries.

Something lowered down from the ceiling and her attendant caught hold of it to pull it down over her abdomen. At the flick of a switch, a warm red glow illuminated her stomach area. Adjusting her clothing so that her stomach and lower abdomen were exposed, he ran the curious mechanical box over her skin. A flicker of light reflected in his eyes, suggesting he was watching a screen on the other side of the box. Was it scanning her? A stab of pain just above her pelvic bone made her scream out, the first noise she'd dared to make since receiving her warning in the hangar. With tears now welling, she bit it back and waited for the initial throbbing to subside to a bearable level.

Work complete, they released them all from their bindings, and then pushed them back into the corridor again, where they continued their journey, shaken but for the best part unharmed.

As they moved on through a set of heavy, riveted double doors, she got the sense they were descending gradually into the bowels of the facility. Down here, huge fans circulated the damp, stale air, and produced an icy chill as they walked beneath them. It came as a welcome change from the heat she'd endured for most of the day…at least for a while. The further on they went, the colder, wetter and more oppressive the atmosphere became, more like that of a cave than a building now. Mehra had been in some dives in her time, but this one was right up there on her top ten of places she wouldn't want to write home about.

At the rear of their group, one young man suddenly found the experience too much to cope with. He started pleading and crying, and pulling against his escort, his screams soon mounting from supplication to hysteria. The guards let it continue for longer than she thought they would, but eventually he found the limits of their patience. One produced, aimed, and fired a gun to silence him. It sent a pulse of power at him that they all felt pass through the air. It floored him, leaving him unconscious, but still breathing. She'd felt certain they would kill him, but they obviously needed him alive. At least that confirmed her earlier opinion. The objective was to keep them alive. That was something she had to be able to use in her favour.

Dragging him by one leg – and boy was his back going to sting like a bitch when he woke up – they continued on through more gigantic sets of double doors, until eventually they came to a halt. Dusty had no idea how far they'd walked, but she got the distinct impression they had now sunk far below ground level. And without the sound of their feet and their heavy breathing as they struggled to keep up with the pace, it suddenly seemed eerily quiet. She wasn't the easily spooked type, but the anticipation of what might come next was a little unnerving. With no knowledge of her enemies, their actions remained unpredictable.

She didn't like unpredictable.

One of the creatures pulled a device from its utility belt, apparently reading something from it. He looked at each one of them in turn, and then pointed to one of the many doors leading off the passageway they stood in. The other guards then grabbed them all, some, including Dusty, kicking and fighting against their grip, and thrust them in through their allocated doorways without another word.

The door slammed shut in Dusty's face, leaving her surrounded by stifling darkness once more.

Well, this was turning out to be one hell of a crappy day.

And to make it worse, it looked like she wouldn't be home for dinner.

oooOOOooo

The midrise meal was already being served as Juroah and Mishta brought their vehicle to a halt at the edge of the camp. Most of their group was gathered near the cooking fire and already beginning to tuck into their portions, pausing only briefly to acknowledge their arrival before continuing to eat without giving them a second look.

As they removed their hoods and visors and climbed out of their vessel, dishes full of halamac broth awaited them. They received them with a grateful dip of their heads, each taking a freshly baked bread cake from the basket offered to them to eat along with it, almost burning their fingers in the process. But they were best eaten hot; once they cooled they became hard as stone and almost as tasteless. The short-term discomfort was definitely worth tolerating, especially if it was first smothered with cooled Karrik butter.

In a far corner of the camp, away from those gathered near the cooking fire, the Founders sat eating their meal while talking solemnly in hushed tones. Juroah and Mishta were about to take a seat beside the fire when one of the Founders called Juroah's name and gestured for them both to join them.

'We've been waiting for you to return,' Goronak told them, moving along his log seat to make room for them. 'What did you see out there?'

'As we suspected, a new intake arrived,' Mishta replied before Juroah could speak. 'Almost twice the usual number, I'd say.'

'Akalus is stepping up operations,' Juroah added. 'With only a few months to go until the so called "day of reckoning" he grows more desperate in his attempts to find the one he seeks.'

Goronak nodded sagely, dipping his bread into his broth. 'Perhaps it _would_ be wise to target the Kheprian transporters as originally planned and kill all humans on board in the future – at least until we're sure we can take down Phylacos. That way if he still seeks the Ancient one, we can ensure he does not find him before we can act.'

The Founders all nodded their agreement.

'That's a good plan, just as it was when you first spoke of it a while back – as long as the one he seeks wasn't in the intake we just saw,' Mishta said, with more than a hint of criticism in her tone. 'Or a previous one.' She stabbed her bread into her warm broth as if beating it into submission. 'We should have acted long ago.'

'You don't approve of our methods, Mishta?' Goronak asked, giving her a patient look.

She blew on the broth-laden bread and ate a mouthful before answering, keeping her manner casual. 'It's not that I don't approve...more that I think things are moving too slowly. When I joined this rebellion, I didn't expect to spend all my time talking about what should be done instead of doing it. Now it may be too late.'

Juroah thudded his fist against her hip. 'Mishta, be quiet. Show some respect!'

But Goronak simply held up a hand to silence him. 'Do not trouble yourself, Juroah. I'm glad young Mishta feels free to speak her mind.'

Juroah bit into his bread, trying to look more comfortable with her attitude, but his eyes told a very different story. They spoke of the many reprimands that lay ahead once this strained mealtime was over.

'I assure you, your concerns are unfounded, Mishta,' Goronak continued. 'It is obvious he has not found the ancient one before today or the harvesting missions would have ceased.'

Which still left doubt hanging over today's intake. She knew she should have taken the heavy artillery along for their watch… With Goronak's approval now gained, Mishta felt confident to say more. 'Of course, if he is as all-knowing as he claims to be, he could be playing us all for fools, diverting our attention while he puts everything he needs in place to destroy us. These harvesting runs could be nothing more than a cover for his true preparations.'

The Founders all exchanged mildly alarmed looks, as if this was the first time they had even considered that Akalus could already know they were watching him. Mishta sighed. She was a youngling amongst these aging rebels. Did she have to think of everything?

'We've talked of taking action against him for over a year, and yet we do nothing but watch as the human farm at Phylacos grows. What if we're wrong about the intakes? What if he already has what he wants, and, even if still unaware that we are observing his activities, is merely using these extra trips for mercenary purposes? Humans are a precious commodity in these parts, and on many other planets in this system, too. I'm sure he needs funds to keep him going until the _great moment_ arrives.'

They had all heard rumours that Akalus had developed ways of growing fully mature humans in less than fifty sunrises. Drunken Birajan scientists often bragged of the breakthrough in the local taverns. These humans were not complete – deformed or mentally impaired in all cases, and sometimes both – but that didn't matter. Some of Akalus' clients only required human flesh and blood; the state of the donor didn't matter to them. Still, Mishta suspected something else was behind these hurried experiments. Akalus was trying to make something – or rather someone – specific, and these cast-offs were just the rejects from a far bigger plan.

Mishta watched Goronak's face fall. The expressions of his fellow Founders, two males and one female, showed they shared his fear that this could be true. 'Perhaps it's time to open up these talks to all of our comrades,' Goronak suggested to them. 'We've grown old and set in our thinking and it seems they may have a keener understanding of the potential problems we face than we do.'

The others nodded their agreement again. Mishta felt her chest swell with pride. At last she had made them sit up and listen. She tried not to look smug about it, but it was hard when she had waited for this moment for so long. She was no longer just an annoying young rebellious trainee on the periphery of the action. She was now a force to be reckoned with.

'Juroah, can I leave it in your hands to call a meeting tonight?' Goronak asked, gaining a nod from Mishta's companion. 'Once the suns set, we will gather at the fire and pool all the information and theories we have. Mishta may be right. What we seek to intercept may already be in Akalus' hands. The only certain way to finish this is to take Akalus out of the equation. We must find a way to infiltrate his stronghold and end this once and for all.'

Feeling energised, Mishta ate the rest of her meal while battling a smile from her face. At last they were talking of action. The time for caution was gone, and though the plan terrified her, she knew it was their only realistic course.

Now they would act and make Akalus regret ever threatening their futures.

oooOOOooo

Mehra had been thumping on her cell door and demanding to be heard for fifteen non-stop minutes before she finally gave up. Through the tiny window, she watched the empty passageway outside, with its sparse illumination giving off a sickly orange glow that spilled into the cell and lit the small area she stood in. She could hear sobs and cries from the other nearby cells, but their captors were long gone, her demands echoing away into nothing. Further protest was futile. She decided to save her energy until someone was actually listening.

'Assholes. Why are you doing this?' she sighed, leaning back against the door, and closing her eyes, trying not to allow the putrid squalor and foul smells in the cell to overwhelm her.

'They won't answer you. I've been asking them the same damn question since I got here, and they haven't told me yet.'

Dusty froze. She hadn't stopped shouting long enough to consider that she might not be alone in that room. It was the first rule on entering any unexplored area – check for signs of life. She'd allowed her emotions to get the better of her and left herself exposed to whoever was lurking back there in the deep shadows of her prison cell.

Peering into the gloom, she tried to locate the owner of that voice.

'You get used to the darkness after a while, Mehra,' the same voice said.

It was a soft voice with a slightly gravelly tone, a light southern drawl, and more than a hint of weariness in its cadence. But more than that, there was something inherently familiar about the sound. Its owner made no attempt to reveal himself, but she was almost certain she knew who it belonged to all the same. It wasn't like he could have guessed her name.

'Colonel Sheppard?'

'I think we can dispense with the formalities, don't you?' he said, extinguishing any small doubt she might have harboured.

'Why didn't you tell me you were here before, Sir?' she asked, shuffling over to him and crouching beside where she found him sitting.

'You were hollering so much I couldn't get a word in edgewise,' he quipped. 'You kiss your mother with that mouth?'

She laughed for the first time today, cheered by his company and customary humour. 'It's good to see you, Sir,' she grinned, although the word _see_ wasn't quite right she realised as she squinted into the darkness.

'You too, Mehra,' he replied. 'But something tells me you didn't come busting in here with a rescue party.'

'No, Sir. Not this time,' she admitted. 'I was ambushed and taken hostage from M5T-568. I haven't seen the rest of my team since then.'

'Well, with any luck they got away and raised the alarm,' Sheppard said hopefully. 'You okay? You look pretty banged up.'

'How can you see in this place?' she asked. She could still barely make out his face even up this close. All she could tell for sure was that he had a healthy beard growth and his hair was far longer than he normally wore it, suggesting they weren't used to getting any kind of personal care down here.

'I told you, you get used to it,' he repeated.

'I'm not planning to get _that_ used to it. I'm getting us out of here.' She got up and started to thump on the door again, shouting to anyone who cared to hear her.

'It won't do you any good,' he told her again. 'They won't listen to anything you have to say.'

'Don't suppose those dumb bugs can understand me anyway,' she grumbled without turning around.

'Don't you believe it,' he huffed. 'Just because we can't understand a word of their language, doesn't mean they can't understand every word of ours. I'm pretty sure they do.'

'Well, I have a few choice words I can use to try out your theory.'

She was about to let rip when he interrupted her. 'Geeja says everyone in this system is fitted with a translation chip shortly after birth, so they _can_ understand everything we say. Which means you should probably try not to annoy the big bug guys…and which also means we have to be on a planet without a Stargate.'

She let out the breath she'd drawn in to yell at them. 'No Stargate? That could be a problem,' she muttered, wandering back over toward him.

'That thought had crossed my mind, too,' he said quietly. 'That and the fact we're miles underground and security here is tighter than a gnat's ass.'

As her eyes gradually grew more accustomed to the gloom, she could now make out that Sheppard was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up in front of him, resting his arms on top of them with his hands clasped together. Casual as ever, although there was a distinct hint of exhaustion to the pose, as if he'd dropped into that position and now didn't have the energy to move again. She couldn't assess his condition very easily in these lighting conditions, but she could make out a thick beard, grown out hair, and dark circles around his eyes that suggested he desperately needed a good night's sleep. His BDUs were filthy and torn and hung loosely from his bony limbs. That was a bad sign considering how hungry she was. It looked like food might be in short supply here.

'Not a pretty sight, is it?' he smiled grimly, his eyes scouring her face for a reaction.

On the wall behind his head, she noticed he'd drawn some notches. 'What are they for?' she asked, pointing to them.

He turned to give them a brief glance. 'That's how many days I've been in this cell,' he explained, wincing as he twisted back around her way.

Seven strokes indicated seven days. 'So, you've only been here for a week?' she said, giving his wretched exterior the once over again. 'Where were you being held before?'

'In another cell. There's one hundred and eighty-two more of those marks in the last hole I spent time in. I guess they thought I needed a change of scenery. This one's a little bigger; makes sense since we're doubling up.'

More features were coming into view as Mehra's eyes gradually adjusted. She noted that the skin on Sheppard's forearms below his rolled back shirt sleeves was marked with fine scars, some darker than others. There were a few more visible on his neck, snaking out from his beard and down toward his collar bones. That wasn't a good sign.

'So, you've been down here the whole six months?' she clarified.

He twitched his eyebrows up, a sign his wordless answer was in the affirmative. 'I'm guessing Atlantis called off the search for us a while ago?'

She nodded. 'Kept it up for two months in the hope you 'gated somewhere else due to a malfunction following your attempt to some home, but after we'd checked every 'gate address the science team could collect from that space 'gate you were headed to, Woolsey had to declare you MIA.'

'Well,' Sheppard croaked. 'I'd say it's a pleasure to see you again, Mehra, but under the circumstances...'

'Yeah. Know what you mean, Sir,' she snorted. 'This is definitely one of those "Wish you weren't here" kinda places.'

A scream punctuated their introductions – drawn-out, distant and horribly desperate. Dusty froze and listened, holding her breath. The voice had a male pitch, and once the scream was over, it repeated the words 'No!' and 'Stop!' several times. Then, it gave one final, toe-curling screech that echoed away into the distance, making the silence that followed all the more oppressive.

When Mehra looked back at Sheppard, his eyes had grown huge and glistening, and she could see his hands trembling violently despite his best efforts to hide it by clasping them harder than before.

'What the hell was that, Sir?' she whispered.

He raised his wary, almost shell-shocked gaze to hers, for a moment unable to put a voice to his thoughts. Then, he said simply, 'You don't want to know, Mehra. You really don't want to know.'

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews. They are all very much appreciated. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter too. Let me know what you think**. **:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rodney McKay didn't like being poked.

He had been prodded and cajoled about this place for the past six months now, and he'd had just about enough of it.

'Do you have to do that?' he spat at the Kheprian guard posted to babysit him, who insisted on nudging him each and every time he stopped to think about what he was reading, giving him no time to process the reams of data he was trying to plough his way through. And every time the impatient creature did it, he lost his train of thought and had to begin again. He'd begun and re-begun the current calculation he was working on five times now and he didn't want to make it six.

The guard just leaned over him and snorted behind his mask, steaming it up and reminding Rodney just how much bigger than the now cowering scientist he was.

Rodney swallowed hard and spun his chair back around to face his display while it scrolled through more data. He hadn't been allowed to see everything Akalus had on the calculations he was working on…apparently, he was supposed to be able to figure everything out without the need for proper rest or sustenance. Well, maybe Akalus was right and maybe he could, but having a clear mind and a full stomach would have made his job a lot easier. Not that this _was_ a job. This was one of those "do it or die" situations he so often found himself in. And that gave him good reason to take his time digesting the information he was given to work with. The sooner this was finished, the sooner he would end up back in some dank cell and…he shuddered. He didn't want to think about the procedures he'd endured in those first two weeks of being here before Akalus had caught on that he might be useful elsewhere. He still hadn't told him how he'd found out about his genius. But he was glad he had…even if this project was driving him nuts.

Without explanation, he felt his almost constant shadow withdraw to the periphery of the room, giving him some breathing space. Rodney sighed with relief, glad to have the huge oppressive body and its accompanying stench at a more comfortable distance. He'd never liked bugs, so eight-feet tall bugs really gave him the creeps. For the briefest of moments, he remembered how much Sheppard hated bugs too, but he didn't want to think about that. He already missed his friends more than he could bear…

The sense of relief the Kheprian's withdrawal gave him didn't last for long. A shadow fell across his workstation, and he peered over his shoulder to find Akalus looming over him, his own terrified expression reflected back at him via his metallic visor. 'Oh…h...hey!' he whimpered, wishing he didn't sound so pathetic. 'I didn't realise you were here…M…Master.' He almost choked on that word every time he said it, but he knew better than to forget to address him that way. He'd learned that lesson very early on and his previously broken arm still throbbed every time he thought about it.

'Are you making progress, Dr McKay?' Akalus asked, straight down to business as he always was.

While Rodney usually preferred a no-nonsense approach over inane chit-chat, he found Akalus' directness, including his strangely distorted, mechanically processed voice, extremely intimidating. Though the armour was highly polished and chrome in colour, the overall effect gave him a distinctly Darth Vader vibe. Calm but menacing. Okay, so it wasn't exactly like the Sith Lord's gettup, but he had to wonder what horrors the man was hiding under his mechanised exo-suit.

'Well, some…' he stammered, trying to think of something smart he could say to placate the man. 'Of course, there's a lot of data to work through, and if I knew exactly why you –'

'My reasons are none of your concern,' Akalus snapped. 'All I need you to do is continue to calculate the positions of the Stargates following the instructions I have given you.'

'Taking into account around sixty-two thousand years of stellar drift…I know. But why?'

Akalus tilted his head and huffed it out in an exaggerated breath. 'You do not need to know why.'

'No…no I don't…that's true,' Rodney conceded, feeling his throat constrict and wondering if that was psychosomatic or whether Akalus was more like Vader than he'd realised. 'But I tend to work better when I'm in possession of all the information available.'

Akalus stood silent a moment or two longer before responding. 'I wish to reactivate the Stargate system. It has laid dormant for some time, and to be able to connect with each one, I have to know their most likely new location and the addresses needed to lock onto them.'

Rodney blinked, somewhat taken aback that Akalus had chosen to share so much. 'I see…but…What?…Wait a minute…what year is this?'

Akalus didn't reply.

'Are you saying we've travelled through time?'

'You're an intelligent man, Dr McKay. You work it out,' the man's synthesised voice rumbled.

A sinking feeling hit McKay hard in the guts. If they'd travelled at least sixty-two thousand years into the future, then there was no hope of rescue. That was why no one had come for them. He was stuck here…but only for as long as he was useful.

'I need you to work on those calculations, Dr McKay, and I need to see progress.'

'I'm doing the best I can, but you can't just drop a bombshell like that on me and expect me to continue as if nothing has happened.'

A slight tremble started up through the floor, shaking Rodney in his seat. He'd become accustomed to the sensation over the past five or so months. It meant Akalus was mad.

His voice low, Akalus growled, 'That is exactly what I expect of you, Dr McKay. What's lost is lost. You cannot bring it back by wallowing in self-pity.'

'Okay,' Rodney almost whispered, staring at his captor's visor, trying to make out anything of the features concealed behind it.

'And don't think I am unaware of your stalling tactics, Dr McKay,' Akalus added, leaning his armoured bulk in closer to him. 'I will give you one more week, then I expect to see some results. If you have nothing to show me after that…we will have to rethink your position here at Phylacos.'

Rethink his position? What did that mean? Rather than ask that question, Rodney just nodded. 'I'll figure it out.'

'Be sure that you do,' Akalus warned, turning abruptly and departing as rapidly as he'd arrived.

Rodney watched him go, wondering how someone so huge could move so quietly. Akalus had to be at least six-feet-six, and wore full body armour the whole time. That had to make him at least two hundred pounds. And yet he made almost no sound. That was downright creepy. Had to be some kind of sound muffling tech in the armour. How else could he do it?

Returning to his work, he called up the data once more, forcing himself to look it over again, all the time battling with the rising panic that having travelled at least sixty-two thousand years into the future awoke in him. So, the huge ship that had swallowed their jumper had been able to travel through time? But what if the ship wasn't around anymore? What if he couldn't get out of here to find his way to it even if it was? What if he never got to see Jennifer again? The thought of getting back to her one day was the only thing that had kept him going since he'd begun to doubt if his team mates were still alive. If his team was gone and he couldn't get back to Jen, what did he have left?

Leaning his chin in his hand at his work station, he allowed his eyes to rove over the data, fully understanding the significance of it all for the first time. This wasn't some whim, it was fact. He'd lost sixty-two thousand years in what had felt like only a moment blacked out on a ship. Holy crap, he was so screwed.

A pincered hand knocked him in the back, followed by an angry snort.

Yep, he really hated being poked…

oooOOOooo

Dusty had no idea how long she and Sheppard had been sitting in silence, but she did know she couldn't keep it up for much longer. Patience wasn't exactly one of her known virtues...and neither was silence for that matter. Her mind was full of questions and since he was the only one here, Sheppard would have to be the one to answer them.

Sheppard had slipped into a seemingly catatonic state shortly after that horrific scream, wrapping his arms around his legs as he rocked gently in some kind of desperate attempt to comfort himself, like a little lost child in some third world orphanage. She'd never seen anyone look genuinely haunted until now, but that was the only way she could describe Sheppard's expression as he rocked, locked deep in his thoughts. The colonel had a reputation for fearlessness. What could possibly have happened in his six months of imprisonment to leave him in this state after a single scream? Admittedly, it had been a truly blood curdling horror movie style scream, but it hadn't had the same effect on her. And she had so many questions she wanted to ask him in the hope of building up a profile of their captors and getting to know what they were up against, she simply didn't have the time to wait for him to snap out of it any more.

'Sir…you okay there?' she ventured, affecting her most caring manner.

His gaze moved slowly in her direction. 'Oh, yeah. Just peachy,' he drawled.

'Do you wanna talk about it?'

'Not really.'

That was a relief because she didn't really do the touchy-feely heart-to-heart stuff. In a good cop, bad cop scenario, she had to be the bad cop every time. But, with the silence finally breached, she felt able to ask something else.

'Do you know why we're being held here, Sir?' she asked, crawling over to join him.

At that distance, she could clearly see the wry smirk he gave her. 'Why do you think?'

She shrugged. 'I dunno. That's why I'm asking you.'

He uncurled just a little, as if talking soothed his nerves. 'The reason behind most elicit activities, Mehra…Money.'

'Money? That's it?'

'What other reason do they need?'

'If they want money, why don't they just hold us to ransom with Atlantis? Why bring us all the way to another planet? And why hold you here for six months in a cell?'

'They have their reasons,' he mumbled, letting his head drop against the wall, clearly tiring of the conversation already.

'But how do they make money out of us if they don't want a ransom?

'Various ways. Put us to work, sell us, or –'

She stopped him right there. 'Sell us? To who?'

'The highest bidder, I guess. Around these parts humans are apparently somewhat of a rarity.'

She nodded, beginning to think she understood this place, then a thought hit her. 'What about the rest of your team...Ronon, Teyla, McKay? Any sign of them since you've been in here?'

'No. Haven't even seen a glimpse of them since we were separated in that huge hangar up at ground level. Ronon's probably down in the mines...maybe Teyla, too. Geeja says that's where most of the strong ones go. They've got a second business mining some valuable ore from down under this crap hole. Apparently Akalus is a real entrepreneur.'

'Akalus?'

'The guy who owns this operation. Hopefully you'll never get to meet him.'

'I hope I do,' she snorted. 'I'd happily give him a piece of my mind.'

Sheppard's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist hard with the kind of speed reserved only for a cobra's strike. She looked down at his blanched knuckles, then up into his intense gaze. 'That would be a very bad idea,' he warned her.

His grip was beginning to hurt and he wasn't letting go. It took her only a second longer to figure out how she could earn her release. 'Okay…so acting like an ass to the head honcho is a no-no. Got it.'

Apparently satisfied, he loosened his hold and let his arm fall limp at his side.

Her shock at his reaction soon gave way to indignation at what he'd said prior to it. 'Hey, how come I'm not in the mines? Does that mean Akalus thinks I'm some kind of candy-ass?

There was a definite pause and she heard him huff out a laugh before he replied, 'No one would ever make that mistake, Mehra.'

So, if that was the case why wasn't she in the mines? Come to think of it, why wasn't Sheppard down there either? Sheppard was as fit as they came, or at least he had been, easily able to hold his own against younger men when it came to training…with the exception of Ronon, but that exception was the case for just about everyone. Seemed to her that Sheppard would have been ideal for the mines...and so would she. So why lock them up in a box like this? With a mounting sense of dread, she wondered if it had something to do with those screams, but decided not to push him on that while she still had him talking so freely.

'Our people have got to find us eventually though. I mean, I still have my sub-cutaneous transponder as far as I can tell.' She felt her arm for any clue that it had been interfered with. There was no discomfort in evidence, which had to be a good sign. 'Pretty sure it's still operational.'

'Geeja says we're thousands of light years away from home…some place called Gragoffa in the outer reaches of the Pegasus Galaxy. Without a Stargate, or any clue where we are, the chances of them locating us are…' He stopped talking and searched her face with his eyes, adding, 'Well, maybe we could get lucky…'

Although she'd been told more than once she'd fallen out of the stupid tree, she hadn't hit every branch on the way down. She knew Sheppard was humouring her. 'This Geeja has a lot to say for himself. Who is he anyway?' she grunted, trying hard not to let his despondency dampen her enthusiasm.

' _He_ is a _she_ , and _she's_ a servant here,' Sheppard explained to her. 'Another human, like us.'

'A servant who seems to know an awful lot about this place,' Mehra said, already suspicious.

'She probably gets to hear a lot of interesting stuff working for the Kheprians.'

'The what?'

'The Kheprians. Those huge, six-legged bug things that threw you in here,' he told her, screwing up his face as he said it in a way that reminded her of his renowned hatred of all things insecty. 'They're not big on introductions. I only know 'cos Geeja told me.'

'And she works for them?' Mehra clarified.

'Kinda. They're an occupying force on this planet, so I don't think she has a lot of choice. She'll be coming by later. We can ask her if she knows what the plans are for you. I'm surprised they want you in here when there's supposedly plenty of work for strong backs down in the mines.'

'Yeah, and I might have a few more questions to ask her, too,' Mehra mumbled. She couldn't help it. She had a naturally suspicious disposition and something about this Geeja already sounded off to her.

Sheppard squinted at her dubiously. 'Don't push her too hard, Mehra. She's been a good friend to me...the only one who's shown me any kindness at all. We need to keep her on side.'

'Are you sure about that, Sir? I mean...if she's working for the Khepiwhateverthehells maybe she's trying to get information from you for them.'

He snorted at that, apparently finding the notion ludicrous. 'Well, if she is she's not doing a very good job. In the six months I've been here she's barely asked me any questions, and definitely nothing classified. She doesn't even know my last name.'

'Maybe she's patient. Seems like she can afford to be since we're so far from home. Rescue sure as hell ain't coming any time soon.'

'She's no spy, Mehra. She just brings me extra food and other things I need sometimes – '

'Softening you up with bribes,' Dusty grumbled. 'We shouldn't trust her, Sir. We need to figure a way out of here ourselves.'

She heard him give an exasperated sigh. 'Don't you think I've tried that, Mehra? I've been cooped up in here for six months. I haven't exactly been sitting on my hands feeling sorry for myself that whole time. There's no way out…except if you're dead.'

Though his words stunned her to silence for a second, she soon bounced back. 'Well, maybe I can figure something out...you know...a fresh pair of eyes and all that.'

'You're welcome to try...just don't screw things up with the one person around here who might be able to help us.'

Mehra jumped up and crossed to the door sliding her hands all around the frame, and the brickwork. She couldn't feel a damn thing that might help her spring the door and get them out of there. Slamming the heel of her hand against the thick metal she yelled, 'Listen here, you bastards! You can't treat us like this. We're United States military!'

As she finished her rant she felt hands grab her. Sheppard pulled her away from the door and slammed her into the wall, slapping his hand over her mouth. 'If you're trying to get yourself killed you're going the right way about it, Sergeant.'

'I'm not just gonna sit here and take this crap!' she hissed as he pulled his hands away. 'They can't do this to us. We don't belong to them.'

He glared at her for a moment, then growled, 'You come into this cell with no idea what enemy you're facing or what they are capable of, and within an hour you're behaving as if you're in charge around here. You don't know anything about this place or the creatures holding us. You can't just pretend to be all tough and in control, and expect everyone to do as you say. Maybe that worked for you back in the Pegasus Galaxy with the downtrodden natives, but it won't wash in this place. You have no authority here, and the sooner you realise that, the better it'll be for you.'

He broke off there with a prolonged bout of coughing, serious lung-rattling barks that shook through his whole body. He backed off, returning to his corner where he curled up and clutched his head, muttering something under his breath. She couldn't be sure exactly what he said, but it was littered with expletives. Apparently, she'd pissed _him_ off way more than she had those bug critters.

Dusty had to admit Sheppard had the measure of her. She did have a constant need to battle the bad guys, and the fact she couldn't do that here drove her nuts. But it was a personality trait ingrained into her after years of fighting first the Ori and then the Wraith, a trait that had kept her alive so far when others hadn't been so lucky. She couldn't simply switch it off when the situation called for her to behave differently. It was who she was. It was why she'd opted to travel to Atlantis once the Ori had been defeated. It was her reason for being.

Realising she'd gone too far, Dusty backed off and sat down on a seedy and soiled looking mattress that lay on the floor on the opposite side of the cell. She knew she needed to give Sheppard some space, not that there was much of that to give him in their cramped cell. Once he'd cooled off she'd work on him again until he saw things the way she needed him to see them.

Tired out by her adventures, she decided to put her head down and catch some sleep. The mattress stank of a combination of every single bodily secretion she could imagine, and possibly other things it was best she didn't think about, but somehow fatigue out-weighed her disgust, and soon she drifted off into troubled dreams.

oooOOOooo

Master Akalus scoured the database of information his guards had submitted to him regarding the new intake of humans. Their blood results were disappointing to say the least...not one of them had any trace of the Lantean gene he sought. There had to be more descendants of the Lanteans out there. If the Kheprians' ships could go further back along the timeline it might not be such a problem, but he was limited in how far he could send them to search, and apparently the Lantean gene had become rarified far longer ago than he'd realised.

He sat back with a sigh in his huge, throne-like seat, collapsing down the holographic display he had been reading with a wave of his armoured hand, wondering what his next move should be. The one and only human with a gene powerful enough to put his plan into action once the time was right was dying. He was gripped by a sickness that targeted his genetics, a sickness long dead in the universe and so now untreatable. It ate away at his health, sapping his life and strength before their eyes. Sheppard didn't have much time, but there were still several months to go until everything Akalus needed would be in place. Sustaining him with his symptom-suppressing drugs was no longer an option; he was visibly weakening with every passing day. But he knew no cure, and no medicine he had concocted did anything but temporarily ease the worst of the symptoms. It was time for a more drastic solution...one that he had been hoping to avoid. It would mean relying on a once formidable enemy, and there was a chance that by alerting them to Sheppard's existence, they could rise in power once again. But the man was valuable to them, almost as valuable as he was to Akalus himself, and they possessed a means to protect him and preserve him. He needed to get it, either by bargaining, or by force.

Brokering a meeting with them would be a delicate process. He couldn't appear too desperate or that would hand them a level of power he could ill afford to gift them. They had to believe he was being beneficent, but he had to convince them of that quickly since it was now perhaps only a matter of days before this man was beyond help.

He tapped into his surveillance system, bringing up the footage from his precious prisoner's cell. He was sleeping again. He spent a lot of time sleeping now. His new cell mate was also sleeping, no doubt having worn herself out with her constant railing. Akalus had quickly deduced from the uniform that these two had a connection, a connection that unfortunately didn't go as far as genetics, but he hoped having another of his kind with him would bring Sheppard comfort and strength, a reason to keep going until he could put his solution into play. She'd certainly proved spirited. With luck, it would help Sheppard rediscover the zest for life that seemed to have abandoned him.

The prisoner rolled over on his mattress, pain crumpling his perspiration-sheened face even in his slumbers. Akalus' heart plummeted. He should never have left it this long. He had complacently believed he could find the solution to this illness himself. But it had been beyond him, just as the work Dr McKay was completing was beyond him, too. It was time to admit he did not have all the answers to his current dilemma, even if he was certain he did possess the ultimate answer to _all_ their problems.

oooOOOooo

Geeja hurried down the dingy underground corridors of Phylacos, ignoring the shouts and groans of her fellow humans that accompanied her along her journey. These people meant little or nothing to her; there was no gain in worrying about them. The only important thing was keeping them alive, and she generally left that to the scientists in the laboratories located in the higher levels. They had a firm grasp of human needs and what their bodies required to stay functioning...except for one of them, and that was where she was headed now.

Though tiny, she moved at surprising speed, eventually nearing her destination – the cell of a particularly sick human she needed to help. As she fumbled in her greying apron's pocket for her keycard and passed it through the control panel of the final set of double doors before reaching his prison corridor, a face appeared at the tiny window in the cell door right beside her.

'Please...you have to help me...get me out of here...please!' the human begged, her scrawny fingers gripping claw-like to the metal grid barring it. Geeja paused only long enough to give her a look of such ferocity that the prisoner immediately backed away and fell silent.

Satisfied that the prisoner would not trouble her again, she moved on.

With those doors behind her, she used the keycard once again to open the door of the cell she wanted to visit, stepping inside.

The new human female slept nearest the door, stirring a little, but not waking at her near silent entrance. Geeja moved straight past her to where Sheppard lay sleeping in the shadows, untouched by the meagre light from the door. Once close enough for his features to become clear she watched him a moment, troubled by his sickly pallor and the slight tremble of his body even though he was sleeping. Crouching beside him she gently shook his shoulder, but he didn't wake, not even after three or four nudges. It proved more difficult to rouse him each time she found him asleep now. She shook him harder, but he only grumbled and tried to roll onto his side, too exhausted to open his eyes

She thumped his arm hard, twice, with the heel of her hand. 'John! Wake up. I bring it for you.'

His eyelids cracked open just enough to reveal only the slightest glimpse of his pale hazel-green eyes. 'Hmmm?'

'The medicine. I have it,' she repeated, taking his hand and thrusting the syringe into it. He pushed himself up off his filth-ridden mattress and activated the loading mechanism. A phosphorescent pink liquid flooded into the cylinder.

'What's that?' The woman sat up now, some protective instinct in her questioning immediately Geeja's actions.

Geeja's head snapped around in her direction. 'Not your business,' she spat, angry at the impertinence of her interruption.

The human woman was silent for a moment, as if taken aback by her response. But it didn't take her long to rally. 'Well, I'm making it my business, Shortstop.'

'Back off, Mehra,' Sheppard grumbled, rolling up the sleeve of his shabby BDU shirt. 'Didn't anything I said earlier sink in?'

'I heard you, I just don't agree with you. So, what's in the syringe, kid?'

'No argue. Take it – quickly,' Geeja coaxed, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand toward his waiting arm.

John lined up the end against a prominent vein on the inside of his left elbow joint, and pressed the button on the side of the cylinder with his thumb. The liquid passed into him in a sudden rush that made him hiss.

'What was that?' the one called Mehra demanded again. 'Are you sure it's safe for you to be using it, Sir?'

'I said back off, Mehra,' he warned again, a deep frown scoring his brow as he looked over her way. It seemed the two of them were in the middle of a disagreement. That really wasn't the kind of companionship John needed right now. The conflict was a drain on his low reserves of energy.

'Who is this...kid?' the female demanded.

Geeja eyed her angrily, getting to her feet and flicked her long braid of dark blonde hair back over her shoulder. 'Who you think you are?' she grunted back at this _Mehra_ as John called her.

'This is Geeja,' Sheppard interrupted, jabbing his thumb in her direction. 'Be nice to her - she can get you things.'

This Mehra eyed her in a way that suggested she thought she was too young to be of any help to her. 'Yeah... I can see that. Thing is…I'm not so sure I want what she's offering, Sir.'

'I not get you anything – you not respect Geeja,' Geeja grunted, letting her blue eyes wander over this new acquisition. She looked like a strong back...good, healthy stock. Even if she wasn't a special gene bearer she might produce a healthy genetic basis for the experiments they carried out here. Humans worth more at the markets.

'Wouldn't want anything your grubby little mitts have been on anyway,' the female growled, showing impressive spirit. The same spirit John had possessed when she'd first met him…

'Mehra,' John warned again, and this time the female stopped challenging her. It appeared John held some sway with this one. He had confided in Geeja that he was a leader of people back where he came from. The female's reaction seemed to suggest that might be the case. She was strong, but he was stronger, at least at some psychological level. That strength would be the difference between life and death if she insisted on being so hostile.

Geeja frowned at Mehra, imagining what the Kheprians would do to her if she behaved that way with them. Once this one had served her purpose, she would enjoy watching her demise at their hands.

The floor shook a little beneath them. Mehra steadied herself against the wall. 'What was that?'

'Seismic shifts. They happen a lot around here. They're nothing to worry about, are they Geeja?'

Geeja shook her head, still glaring at Mehra who gave her a similar look. This human acted above her station. She needed to be tamed, just as John had when he'd first arrived. She would learn...or die, though Geeja suspected John's failing health had done more to break his spirit than any punishment from the Kheprians had.

'If you say so,' Mehra muttered sullenly. 'I'm not sure I'd be so ready to trust the opinion of someone working for the enemy, though.'

Sheppard's head lolled back against the wall. 'For pity's sake, drop the attitude, would you?'

Mehra clearly seething with anger, refused to back down. 'I'm sorry for not wanting to sit back and accept my fate just yet, Sir, but I haven't been here as long as you and if I have anything to do with it I won't be. And I sure as hell don't see how getting high is gonna help.'

'Zip it, Mehra. That's an order,' John snapped. Geeja could feel the rage building inside him at that comment, although she had no idea why.

'Thought you said we could drop the formalities?'

'And yet you're still calling me _Sir_.'

Confused by their argument, Geeja asked, 'What "getting high" mean?'

'It means being wasted...blitzed…stoned...do you understand anything I'm saying?' Mehra said, speaking deliberately slowly as if she thought her too stupid to follow normal speech.

Geeja imagined beating her about the head and biting off her ears. Instead she shook her head.

'Do you know what drunk means?'

At last a term of reference she understood. 'Yes.'

'Well, it's like that, but much, much worse. Humans do it because they're bored, apparently, or because they need to escape from the awful things happening in their lives. It's a dumb thing to do…and dumb to help people do it.'

Now she understood why John was so offended. 'He not bored; he sick,' she said in his defence. 'I give him medicine.'

'Sick?' That stopped the woman in her tracks. It seemed she hadn't considered that possibility.

As Geeja began to answer, John shouted up over her. 'Uh, yeah. I've got a cold or something. Maybe flu. Geeja thinks this stuff'll help.' He gave the syringe back to the Geeja and she concealed it up the sleeve of her woollen dress.

'A cold?' Mehra repeated, though she looked doubtful. It had been a lie, and not a terribly convincing one. The female didn't seem too sure.

'That's right, a cold,' he said, and right on cue he coughed and spluttered. The rattle in his lungs went on and on.

Mehra crinkled her nose up in disgust. 'Oh, great. So now, on top of everything else, I'm going to come down with some funky Pegasus virus?' she grumbled, leaning away from him.

'Thanks for the sympathy.'

'No fight. You two be quiet or there be trouble – big trouble,' Geeja warned them.

'What's she talking about?' Mehra demanded, apparently irritated by the girl's constant interruptions.

Sheppard managed to focus on her for a while, looking for all the world like he was about to answer her, but then he seemed to simply lose interest. 'You carry on the way you have so far and you'll see,' he sighed enigmatically.

'Can't you just tell me now and save me the wait, Sir? I really hate surprises.'

'Who she think she is?' Geeja asked Sheppard, looking Mehra up and down with thinly veiled disgust.

'Back where we come from, she helps to fight the bad guys. It's what she does. She wants to do it now, too...just like I did when they first captured me.'

'Well, you not important here. Only this matters here.' Geeja pinched at the flesh on Mehra's cheek, the action making the human knock her hand away. 'Either you supply them with what they need here or you get sold to the highest bidder.'

'Over my dead body,' Mehra grumbled.

Geeja just shrugged. 'Price be lower, but still good money.' She watched the look of horror flit across Mehra's pretty features before she could school her expression into a more inscrutable scowl. 'Food come soon. I go now. Bring more medicine in morning.'

'Thanks, Geeja,' John croaked, listless and worryingly pale in that dark corner he called home.

With one last fierce look Mehra's way, Geeja took her leave. John was sicker than she'd realised. He might not even have the weeks she'd thought he had left. She scurried away, the weight of the universe on her shoulders. This was bad. This had to be fixed and fast.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, favourites and follows. Please keep them coming. Just a quick heads up that next week it will be Tuesday when I post as I am away for a few days from the end of this week. Sorry to keep you waiting an extra day but I should be back to normal posting after that. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _White._

 _Intense whiteness that made his eyes pulse with pain._

 _Was he actually seeing this or was he blind?_

 _Though it had seemed impossible the whiteness increased, leaving his eyeballs burning and tears streaking down his temples. When he tried to shield himself from the brilliance, Sheppard found he was completely immobilised. There were restraints at his wrists and ankles and his back was pressed into a cold, hard surface. The floor? Maybe a table? He couldn't see to know, but wherever it was, it wasn't Atlantis._

 _He became aware of movement around him, shadows intermittently blocking the painful illumination and giving him brief moments of relief from the force of the brilliant white glare. People? Their features were unclear in the blur of his retina burn but they looked a little small. Was it the Vanir? They were pretty advanced, and the place he found himself in had the feel of some kind of lab...a stinking, unsanitary lab granted by the odours assaulting his nose, but a lab all the same. So, what did that make him...a frog waiting to be vivisected? Great, he'd known there was a reason he'd never cared for biology lessons much in high school._

 _It was only when someone finally leaned over him and completely blocked out the light source that his eyes had a chance to fully adjust and he realised the figures buzzing around him weren't Vanir at all. Much like the Vanir, this creature stood a good head and shoulders shorter than the average man – Teyla's height at most, but no more – but its face had the look of old leather, the skin weathered and tough, with a greenish brown hue. In the place of hair were layered platelets resembling snakeskin, but most striking of all were the lilac eyes, their tiny black pupils piercing as it stared at him, babbling excitedly to its companions. Something had the little fella worked up. Sheppard had a horrible feeling it was something to do with him._

 _Soon, Sheppard found several more faces looking in over him, waving various devices his way and getting results that seemed to please them. Well, he was happy they were happy, but he wasn't at all comfortable with the being restrained and at their mercy part of all this. Time to appeal to their...humanity?_

' _Hey, guys. How about you tell me what's going on here and where the rest of my team is?'_

 _They stopped talking for a moment, giving him an odd look. One of them spoke to the others in a language he had no idea how to comprehend, something that now raised alarm bells because the influence of the Stargate usually meant all alien languages were instantly translated. It hadn't struck him at first, but now that little fact seemed ominous considering his situation. No Stargate, no easy way back to Atlantis. The small crowd gathered around him parted and then the next thing he knew he was being roughly fitted with their version of a ball gag._

So, no talking, huh? _he figured as it pressed down his tongue and silenced him to no more than throaty grunts. He didn't like the direction his mind was taking him in now he was completely restrained and silenced. He hoped to God this wasn't going to pan out the way his imagination was picturing things._

 _Thankfully, all they did was wheel in more tech to his bedside, something far less scary than he'd feared might be about to happen. He'd heard a few alien abduction stories in his time and he had no desire to experience any probing, no matter how much valid and useful information on the human species it gave them. Of course, any one of these new devices they were tinkering with might start poking him in places best left unmentioned at any time. He wasn't out of the woods yet…_

 _The creature to his right pulled out a syringe pretty much the size of the ones he'd seen veterinarians use on the horses back at his dad's ranch. Holy crap, that thing was big enough to leave a hole that would need stitches. His 'doctor' jabbed the needle deep into his arm, forcing a cry the gag muffled in a wholly unsatisfying way. He'd wanted to scream so loud their eardrums burst...if they even had eardrums. It seemed like an age before the syringe was withdrawn, its chamber full of his blood. That had to be at least a pint and he felt a slight wobble in his focus due to the shock. So, what now? Some OJ and a cookie before they thanked him and asked him to "Please donate again"?_

 _Judging by the scalpel another one of them now wielded, he doubted that was what they had in mind._

 _He tried to convince them to stop, but his words were nothing more than animalistic grunts and gurgling saliva. He felt the blade slice into his left forearm, felt it dig around to remove tissue and nerves in a way that left him bucking and screaming like a pig that knows it's about to be slaughtered. So, this was it? They were going to take him apart for...for what? Spares and repairs? Blood, tissue...organs?_

 _Oddly, it came as a relief when he smelled burning flesh, and felt the sear of heat where he'd been cut. They were cauterizing the wound. Patching him up. Was it over? Did he dare to hope for that?_

 _Some discussion was taking place. They were looking at him as if he was a prime cut and they were deciding which part to sample next. Was this how John Sheppard would meet his end? In some futuristic version of death by a thousand cuts?_

 _The scalpel was raised again, slicing into his side just below his ribcage as he screamed out against the gag once more..._

Sheppard woke with a start, clutching the imaginary wound in his side and choking back screams, with Mehra gripping his shoulders to ground him. It had been a dream...this time.

'You're okay, Sir. You were having a nightmare.'

Had he been screaming out loud? He sure as hell felt like it. His throat was raw as he swallowed back stifled sobs.

'I'm good,' he lied, conscious of the wheeze in his chest as he took deep breaths to calm himself. Mehra had to be able to hear them too. Concern flitted across her tight features. 'Doesn't sound like that medicine's doing you any good, Sir. And if the side effects are scary-ass nightmares maybe you should skip it.'

'Yeah...maybe,' he grouched, feeling like crap as he struggled to sit up. He was getting weaker every day; he could literally feel the life seeping out of him...like a Wraith draining, only slower and more torturous. He'd never thought he'd be making that comparison.

'You know, Sir, I really think you should bring me up to speed on everything going down here. That way I might be able to help you think up an effective plan of escape.'

Though he tried not to, he couldn't stop a laugh from bubbling up in response to that. 'I've already told you, Mehra. I've tried everything,' he repeated, finally daring to let go of his side. Even though he knew he'd dreamed it, he still checked his fingers for blood.

'Okay...so just tell me everything you know because it makes me feel better when I have more information,' she countered, unwilling to let the matter drop so readily.

He understood her determination…her frustration. He'd felt exactly the same six months ago – certain he could figure his way out of this and ready to try everything to get to his team. He could give her a few minutes of his time. He wasn't going anywhere. Sighing, he fought to focus his dulled mind and pull together a response that might appease her. 'You all got segregated into groups on arrival, right?'

'Yeah; four groups,' she replied. 'And I got that some mine, and I got that some get sold on…'

'Well...then, there's us.'

'And we are?'

His eyes met hers, but he didn't speak...couldn't. How could he put the pain and abuse into words?

'What? Why are you looking at me like that? What are we here for, Sir?'

'Humans are veeery valuable out here,' he drawled, 'and trips to Earth cost a small fortune. So, they're trying to increase the number of humans here using other methods.'

There followed a short delay, while his explanation sank in and computed. Then she added two and two and came up with five. 'Wait! You mean they want us to...?'

'No...no, no, no. That's not what I meant,' he blustered, realising what conclusion she'd jumped to. 'No...that would take way too long for them. They're experimenting, testing and monitoring us, taking samples, using our DNA to try to reproduce humans to use or sell on.'

'And that's what they've been doing to you for the past six months? Using you to supply them with genetic material?'

'Yep,' he replied, trying to keep it nonchalant. But he gave no more detail. It wouldn't help her to know just how agonising that process was.

She paused, then asked. 'Is that what the nightmare was about?' He felt his shoulders sag and he couldn't look at her anymore, but she apparently wasn't prepared to take his silence as an answer. 'Don't go all quiet on me again, Sir. I need you to tell me what the hell is going on here.'

'Don't give me orders, Mehra!' Sheppard yelled, unhappy at being forced to recall things he would rather forget. 'I've been thrown around, beaten, and told what to do on a daily basis for the past six months, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you push me around, too.'

He saw a spark in her eyes, a satisfied glint that told him he'd at last said something she wanted to hear. 'Good! That's good, Sir. That's how you _should_ feel. When I came in here, you'd given up. You _should_ be fighting; you _should_ be angry. Now help me find a way to give 'em hell!'

That fight she spoke of left him again just as quickly as it had arrived. He didn't have the stomach or the energy to make a stand. He took a deep breath, inhaling the damp, stale air of his dank prison cell, letting it go in another sigh. 'Why? What's the point? We're millions of miles from help here. No one cares about us.'

'That's not true, Sir. No one back at Atlantis has given up hope of finding you and your team, even if the SGC has declared you MIA. If we have any chance of getting out of here, we have to keep fighting them. We can't let them beat us down, Sir.' She gave his shoulder a friendly punch, one that sent a sickly throb down his whole arm. 'Show no fear and all that.'

He looked back into Mehra's large, brown, hopeful eyes, and felt a pang of regret that he couldn't share her zeal. The best he could manage was a sympathetic smile. 'Get out of here? And go where? You can't just hail a cab and go home, you know.'

'Surely anywhere is better than being in here?' she pointed out.

'Geeja says we're being held inside a biosphere no more than a few miles across. Outside of that, the atmosphere is toxic to humans. That's why the Kheprians have to wear their breathing apparatus while in here with us. We could never get far enough away from this place not to get caught again.'

Mehra stood sharply, walking away toward the door. 'Geeja says...Geeja says. I'm getting kinda sick of hearing what Geeja says. How do you know you can trust her, Sir? I mean…really know. She could be lying.'

'She's my friend,' Sheppard offered in her defence. 'She has nothing to gain by being dishonest. Why would she lie to me?'

She snapped her head round his way. 'Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because she's working with the enemy. And if humans are as valuable as you say out here, she's gonna say anything it takes to convince you to stay.'

'Just 'cause she's working for them doesn't mean she likes them. That's why she helps me.'

'By giving you medicine to keep you around even longer. Which is in their interests. So what makes you so sure you can trust someone who helps those critters?'

He hesitated. He didn't actually know anything for certain where Geeja was concerned. He'd needed help, she'd offered it, and he'd accepted it at face value because he was too tired and sick to care. But she'd never done anything to hurt him or make him suspect she had an agenda, so he had to keep believing she was a friend. 'She's just a girl, Mehra. She's not trained in resistance. If a big...bug started ordering _any_ civilian around, I think you'd find them pretty compliant.' He dropped his gaze to his scuffed and tattered boots, adding, 'And like I said, fighting makes no difference anyway.'

'Listen to yourself, Sir. That's not you talking...that's Geeja. She's brainwashed you into thinking you have no other options,' Mehra snarled. She crossed back over to him, squatting down to look him squarely in the eye through the gloom of that murky cell. 'I'm here now. I'm another option. There has to be a way to get back home.'

Home.

He'd thought of nothing but getting back to Atlantis from the moment he'd woken up in that operating theatre. But lately he'd accepted it wasn't to be. He was sick – real sick. There was no doubt in his mind that it was serious. Geeja had never told him as much, but he could tell from the way she dealt with him that she knew it was bad. He'd come to terms with the fact that he was going to die here in this hellhole without ever seeing his home or his friends again. Now Mehra was making him long for the comforts of his beautiful city and the pain of knowing he would never experience them again was unbearable. Sheppard turned away and withdrew into himself once again, coughing into his knees as he wrapped his arms around them and curled up into a ball, his body trembling. He couldn't go through that agonising yearning again.

Mehra's frustration flared and she hissed out a string of expletives, rising and booting the wall so hard it left her hobbling. She retreated to her stinking mattress and he listened as she unlaced her boot in the darkness, no doubt to massage her aching toes.

A moment later the cell door opened, and a bucket full of slop landed with a splat on the floor. There was a pause in which the door clanked shut and locked again, followed by Mehra's, 'What…the hell…is that?'

'Bon appétit,' Sheppard quipped, his stomach lurching at the thought of even trying to eat the gunge that had been his staple diet for months now.

'You have got to be kidding!' he heard her breathe, and he really wished he was.

'I hope you're hungry,' he murmured. 'It helps.'

'Not _that_ hungry,' she grumbled, reminding him of his own refusal to eat when he'd first arrived here. He'd lasted a sum total of five days before the hunger pains had grown so bad he'd been forced to scoop up a handful of the gloop and try it. It didn't really taste of much, but the texture had left him dry-heaving. Eventually, after a week or so, he'd grown so accustomed to it that he could eat without the retching. Now...now he saw it a means to prolong his suffering, something he had no desire to do.

John Sheppard was dying, pure and simple. And as far as he was concerned, the sooner it happened the better.

oooOOOooo

As darkness descended on their camp, the Birajan rebels gathered around the campfire, warming themselves in its glow as the Founders convened the much-anticipated meeting.

'Thank you for joining us everyone,' Goronak began, as a hush settled on the group. 'It has come to our attention that, although we have the cause's best interests at heart, we, that is the Founders, may not be the only members of this group who have useful ideas about how best to deal with the issue of Master Akalus and the Phylacos complex. Tonight's meeting is an open forum in which each member of this group will be given the opportunity to have their say. If you know of or are worried about anything, no matter how trivial it may seem, this is the time for you to speak up.'

Mishta rose immediately, her half-Birajan, half-human heritage making her far taller than most in the assembly. 'I know I made my feelings known to you earlier, Goronak, but I would like to address the group if you will allow it,' she asked, glancing down toward her mentor and catching sight of the warning look on Juroah's face. She knew what that look meant; he was worried she would lose her temper and along with it her composure. He didn't have to worry. She had no intention of losing either.

Goronak gestured for her to proceed, and she stepped forward into the centre clearing, nearer to the fire.

'I know I only actively joined this rebellion a relatively short time ago,' she began, humble before them. 'But I have known of this movement for many years through my mother and father. The talk of taking action against Akalus has gone on for far too long. With only a few months now until the day of reckoning, I feel we can waste no more time on speculation and tentative reconnaissance. We need to act decisively now.'

Orange smoke spiralled upwards around her from the fire and plumed up into the indigo sky as she waited for their response. For a moment, that was the only visible movement in the gathering. The majority of the rebels were unused to offering their opinions, they simply followed the lead of the Founders, and old habits were apparently hard to break. She sighed, her enthusiasm already fading. 'Does anyone agree?'

Juroah finally broke the silence, evidently feeling compelled to support her since he had taken her under his wing when she'd joined the movement. 'I agree. To delay acting until the last moment leaves no margin for error. If we move on Phylacos now and fail, there is still time to regroup and make another attempt.'

Hearing Juroah, a long-time member of their group, speak out that way seemingly gave others the courage to come forward.

'I agree,' said Molkar, a male of a similar age and social standing to Juroah. 'We need to bring an end to this barbarism, and to Akalus himself.'

'He will not be easy to defeat,' Goronak warned solemnly. 'He grows stronger with every passing day, and the urge of his self-proclaimed destiny courses through his veins. It will take a great deal of courage and planning to get close enough to inflict any lasting harm on him while he skulks within that complex.'

'I'll go into Phylacos if you seek volunteers,' Mishta offered.

'That would be an extraordinarily bad idea,' said a voice from somewhere at the back of the group.

Mishta's brother now joined the gathering. He, too, stood head and shoulders above the rebels, and his mixture of Birajan and human features made him a striking figure as he strode forward to join her.

Furious he'd dared to undermine her in front of the whole group, Mishta hissed, 'Why do you think that, Lansha? Is it because I'm female?'

'No, because you're a Birajan/Human hybrid. Although there are many in this group who could attempt to infiltrate Phylacos and pose as Akalus' workers, you are not one of them - and neither am I.'

Anger continued to build in Mishta, though for the time being she kept it in check. She'd promised herself she would not rant and rave as people expected her to, but her brother's interruptions belittled her offer to lead the strike. He always made her feel so…foolish.

Before she exploded, Juroah intervened. 'Lansha makes his point well, Mishta. You would draw attention where others wouldn't, and that could jeopardise our plans. I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say we admire your zeal –' fervent nodding from those there seated accompanied his words, '– but on this matter, you cannot take a lead.'

'There will be much work to do before any attack on Phylacos is put into action,' Goronak added. 'You'll be able to assist in many other ways, I'm certain.'

Placations, all of them. She was to be set aside, just as she always was. Still, if she was to earn enough trust to be given a role, she had to stay calm. So, she forced on a strained smile. 'I'm sure,' she grumbled, as she sat down to give the floor to someone else.

'When we say we want to end this programme, what exactly does that mean?' Karema, one of the older females in the gathering asked. 'I hear tell that many of the humans within those walls have been treated horribly, and are now so unstable they could prove a danger to themselves and others. We cannot simply free them.'

'I heard the Birajan scientists Akalus employs have carried out experiments on some of them to increase their numbers. There could be thousands of them in there. And it's said the products of those experiments are not complete, and that they walk the corridors wailing and moaning and trying to steal what they lack from anyone they come across – even body parts!'

As the group grew more agitated Mishta watched Lansha shaking his head with an amused smile. Apparently, he'd heard those rumours, too, but he didn't believe them. They did indeed sound fanciful. But then again, it had been some time since any one of them had come in contact with anyone from inside Phylacos' walls. Much could have changed in that time.

Goronak stood again, holding out his hands to bring a hush to the now troubled group. 'Such hearsay does nothing but distract us from our course. We have no way of knowing what truly lurks beyond those walls, but I think we all agree, the place should be completely destroyed to ensure Akalus and his work die with it.'

The group called out their support, clapping in agreement.

'But what about the humans?' Lansha asked, interrupting the Founder's rousing speech. 'They're innocents in all this.'

Goronak smiled patiently at him. He walked across the clearing and took hold of his arm, giving it a squeeze. 'I understand your affinity with those creatures, Lansha, but they are not like us. Bringing their suffering to an end will be a merciful release for them.'

Mishta could see Goronak's point, but Lansha was apparently less than convinced. 'That's not true. They're like us in many ways. What you're suggesting is merely heaping more misery on top of the suffering they already endure.'

'They would be dead. They would know nothing of misery. We are the ones who endure misery, cast out as we are from our homes because we believe we should prevent what the scriptures predict,' Mishta said, her annoyance with her brother brewing again.

Lansha could be a sentimental fool at times, a particularly human trait he had inherited from their father. Birajans considered humans a primitive and overly emotional species, who wasted far too much of their precious energy on trivial matters. Mishta shared that opinion, and her brother's insistence on petitioning on behalf of the pathetic creatures was just further evidence of that.

'We all know you had your differences with our father, but humans have many admirable qualities,' Lansha fired back at her, undermining her argument.

She tilted her head and asked, 'Such as?'

'Tolerance; patience; compassion.'

'All weaknesses,' she growled, folding her arms as if solidifying her statement.

'To you, perhaps,' Lansha sneered, 'but we could learn much by embracing our human heritage as well as our Birajan blood.'

'I will embrace nothing of the sort,' she snorted, her nose wrinkling with disgust at the mere suggestion of it. 'Moreover, if I could take a knife and cut the human part of me away, I would do it in a heartbeat.'

'Arguing is getting us nowhere!' Juroah shouted, calling their bickering to a halt. 'You both have a valid point of view. The truth of the matter is, if we destroy Phylacos, it is unlikely we will be able to save anyone who resides there – be they Human, Birajan or Kheprian.'

'We have to focus on how to destroy Phylacos rather than the regrettable casualties that will ensue,' Goronak agreed. 'We'll need to smuggle explosives into the complex, and the amount required will not be easy to conceal.'

A moment of quiet contemplation descended upon the group, but much to Mishta's annoyance, her brother offered a solution. 'Actually, I've heard talk in the taverns of a race in this system who have discovered a substance so explosive that only a tiny grain of it, when exposed to our air, can cause a devastating explosion.'

'But you want to protect the humans,' Mishta reminded him. 'That would not protect them.'

'The universe is our priority,' he growled. 'I understand that as well as anyone. That does not make my empathy for the humans a flaw.'

'Sooo noble. Or perhaps your _humanity_ is all talk!'

'If they are to die, a bigger explosion would kill them outright. That has to be better than leaving them suffering.'

This time their mentor completely lost his patience. 'Enough bickering,' Juroah bellowed. 'This situation is bigger than your petty differences of opinion. We'll hear no more of it!'

They both quietened, though Mishta continued to fume.

An excited buzz of conversation rippled through the group. 'Those explosive seem to be exactly what we need,' Goronak grinned at Lansha. 'Do you know the name of this race?'

Lansha's former confidence evaporated into sheepishness. 'I fear not,' he admitted, revealing the flaw in his plan, 'but I'm sure if I make enquiries, I could soon find it.'

'Another excuse to waste time in the taverns,' his sister grumbled. 'Just one more human quality you've inherited from our father.'

'Enough, Mishta,' Goronak warned this time. 'Your brother comes to our gathering with a possible answer to our problem, and all you can do is berate him...and your father, who, might I remind you, was well respected within this group.'

The gathering fell silent. Mishta lowered her gaze to the floor, suitably embarrassed by Goronak's scolding. She had let herself down despite all her inward promises. Lansha wasn't the only one of them to let his emotions get the better of him, it seemed.

A light ripple of conversation struck up through the crowd. Goronak stood and signalled for them to hush. 'Given the information you've brought to us, Lansha, I believe the first thing we have to do is discover the name of the species that developed this volatile substance. We shall ask in the local taverns - lubricate a few tongues, if necessary, but we must be careful. Phylacos supplies many in our locality. We cannot give any clue as to why we are making our enquiries, or we will find many parties more than willing to stop us.'

The group nodded their agreement. Mishta huffed out a bitter and almost inaudible laugh that only Juroah heard. His expression told her to bite her tongue. And so she did. They had a plan now...of sorts. At least it meant they were taking action. Although...as always...she wasn't allowed to be a part of it.

The meeting disbanded with the agreement they would all gather there again in two sunsets' time, if not before, to share whatever information they had gleaned.

Only Mishta remained seated. A fury burned inside her far hotter than the campfire flames she glared into. She'd been the one to finally get this rebellion moving, and now Lansha would steal all the glory. It was typical that the others chose to follow him and not her. Well, she would show them. She could be far more persuasive in the taverns than he could. She would find the name of the creators of those explosives, and then sit back and enjoy her triumph while her brother could only watch.

oooOOOooo

'You sent for me, Master?'

Akalus looked up from his work as the commander of his Kheprian troops spoke up, standing before him.

'I did, Hakkar,' Akalus acknowledged, shutting down the camera feed to the prisoner he had been observing. 'I wanted to discuss a matter with you…one of great import.'

Hakkar dipped his head as if to signify he was listening.

'I have made the decision to invite the Reliquiae back to Phylacos.'

The Kheprian commander stood still, as if frozen…as if, for a few seconds, he couldn't comprehend what Akalus had told him. 'The Reliquiae?' Hakkar eventually repeated. 'I thought you had cut off all dealings with them years ago.'

Akalus rose from his seat and crossed to his window overlooking the compound's exercise yard. 'Yes…I had. But I find myself in need of their rather unique assistance, so I am forced to rethink my stance.'

'I see.'

Of course he did. Akalus had made sure Hakkar and his men would always see things from his point of view. 'I am telling you in advance so that you and your men can be prepared for their visit,' he continued. 'They may be old, but they are still dangerous to you all. You must be on your guard at all times while they are on the premises.'

'Yes, Master Akalus,' Hakkar nodded. 'When do you intend to bring them here?'

'As soon as I can establish communications,' Akalus told him, turning to face the huge alien. 'The Reliquiae are notoriously aloof. They may not wish to answer my hails.'

'I could go there in person…deliver your message myself,' the Kheprian offered.

Akalus tilted his head as he considered that idea. An actual living creature at their door would be hard to ignore. Perhaps the idea had merit…

'You realise the risk you would be taking?' Akalus clarified.

'I do.'

'You know if they are ravenous they could turn on you before you put my offer to them?'

'I understand, but I am willing to go if it eases your problem.'

Akalus regarded the huge Kheprian, admiring the supreme evolutionary beauty of this creature's form and strength, even minus the one arm Sheppard had deprived him of in one of his feistier moments. If anyone could withstand a Reliquiae attack it would be a Kheprian.

'Very well. Tomorrow you will travel to Agrastan and deliver my message to the Reliquiae. I expect they will be more than happy to re-establish trade. Tell them it will be at the old rates plus ten percent in recompense for their…unruly behaviours of the past.'

'Yes, Master.'

The Kheprian began to turn for the door when Akalus called after him, 'Oh, and when you talk to your men, be sure to inform them that at least one of the Reliquiae will not be leaving the compound.'

Hakkar stopped and turned to look back over his shoulder. 'Master?'

'That is with or without their agreement.'

Seeming to now fully understand the inference, Hakkar dipped his head and continued on his way to carry out his orders.

Akalus watched him go, pleased by the huge alien's offer of assistance. The Kheprians were loyal to a fault…they had to be. He had programmed them to be that way. Soon he would have the help he needed to save his fading prisoner…and in less than one year, he would finally be able see through his plans for universal cleansing.

* * *

 **A/N: As usual, thank you to those of you giving your support and comments as I post this story. It helps to have feedback to let me know if you are enjoying the way a story is progressing. I should be back to Monday posting next week, so you won't have quite so long to wait for the next chapter. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ronon missed Atlantis. After seven years of running from the Wraith he'd never imagined he would ever consider any place to be his home again. Only now, stranded and imprisoned with no way out, did he realise how much the Atlantis had actually come to mean to him. It meant security, friendship, rest...three things he dearly craved. And he missed Amelia, too. Their relationship had been blossoming, still in the early stages but strong. One day, he had assumed that she would fully fill the hole left in his heart by Melena's death. Now, that hole was deeper and wider than ever without her there beside him.

Six months had passed since he'd last seen his home, not that he was intentionally counting. All he knew was it had been a long, torturous, and backbreaking ordeal, and he wished it could be over. Ronon knew he was a strong man, much stronger than many of the other prisoners he saw working around him, so if it had been that hard on him, he had nothing but respect for the others who were also still mining alongside him. This had to be so much harder on them.

He wondered if he'd done something awful in a previous life to deserve the hand the Ancestors had now dealt him. But even in all of his life, he'd met very few beings so bad he would wish this hellhole on them. Of course, there were a few who definitely met the criteria; his Wraith pursuers, Kolya…that whinging coward Kavanagh, maybe…

Right now, he would honestly give anything to feel Amelia's arms around him, to feel some sense of closeness. Everyone here kept themselves to themselves, exchanging few words and even fewer looks. It was as if they were trying not to get attached to each other. And he understood where that came from. On Atlantis, his job had been to protect others, but several attempts at that here, resulting in brutal punishment for both him and the person he'd tried to assist, had taught him that this world played by a very different set of rules.

As he chipped away at the rock face, he revealed a large chunk of glassy, pink ore. This was what all this toil was about. This was the prize they all sought. Chiselling it free, he threw it into his bucket and wondered, for about the ten thousandth time, what the bug men did with it. It obviously held great value for them, but for what purpose? He imagined it was a gemstone of some kind, this system's version of a diamond he'd heard the Atlantis humans talk about perhaps, although it was far more fragile.

His strong, work-worn fingers bled from the numerous knocks and scrapes the day's digging had caused. He was now a much leaner version of the man he'd been when they'd first brought him there. Back then, at six feet five inches tall in his bare feet, he had weighed in at fifteen stones of what had once been solid muscle. Down to only one pitiful and almost intolerable meal a day, his body had become more sinewy than it had ever looked before, the hard work burning up his stores until there was no body fat left on him. Everything had melted away to reveal ribs and hipbones he hadn't seen for years. He'd had to poke through numerous new holes in his leather belt just so he could keep his trousers up. Toiling away day after day with only a minimal amount of sleep had certainly burned off the excesses of his comfortable Atlantis life.

The worst thing he'd witnessed during his incarceration had happened only a few days ago. A woman in a tunnel quite close to his had crawled out, her body failing, only to die right there in front of him. She'd fallen out of the view of the guards and, because of the automated nature of the mines, it had been some time before they discovered and removed her body. He'd seen plenty of dead bodies during his time living in Pegasus, but to have someone die in front of him and be powerless to do anything to give her dignity and justice in her death was a new experience for him. The guards had eventually found her and disposed of her, but he still couldn't get that sight out of his head. Every night as he tried to sleep, his thoughts turned to wondering about how long he would lie undiscovered when his time came…and he had no doubt that time would come. His captors were working them to death. They were free labour, nothing more.

A low rumble signalled that the carriages would soon arrive at the nearest stop to his hole. He scrambled out with his bucket of precious stones and waited for its arrival. Then, he emptied his cargo into one of the trucks and watched it shuttle away again.

Across the way, on another level within the mine, he saw a new face looking back at him, a young woman with tears in her eyes. So, there had been another intake of humans? That was two since he'd arrived there, and he inwardly cursed their captors for forcing more people into slavery. He hated doing this…helping his captors, but what other choice did he have? Death? Maybe that wasn't such a bad option. He hadn't seen daylight in six months. He desperately wanted to feel the sun on his skin one more time before death claimed him.

To his right, he saw someone wave from the corner of his eye. He turned to see Teyla, faring far better than he was on their food rations due to her tiny frame, waving to catch his attention. She still looked strong, if a little thinner than before. He lifted his hand in acknowledgement, his way to tell her he was still okay and ready for another day. She gave him a grim smile, but he could see the haunted look in her eyes even from that distance. If he missed home, it had to be a hundred times worse for her. Back in Atlantis, Torren would be wondering what had happened to his mother, wondering why she was no longer there to tell him bedtime stories, or to comfort him when he was sick or sad. Tears of anger welled in Ronon's eyes and he fought them back. Her wouldn't show any sign of weakness in this place. Not until the day he dropped down dead.

Sadly, he conceded to himself, that day probably wasn't as far away as he had once hoped it would be.

oooOOOooo

' _Get up!'_

 _The ear-splitting command jolted Sheppard from his sleep. He opened his eyes to the sight of four of those huge bug men crowded around him, batons drawn. He kind of liked the fact he had them worried enough to feel they needed to be armed. Forcing himself up from his stinking mattress, Sheppard stood before them and waited for whatever orders they would give him this time._

 _He'd been here six days now, had been forced to eat the crap they called food around here for the first time yesterday, and now he was feeling a little less off his game. He scanned them, looking for any clue that might indicate one of them as the weak link, not that any eight feet tall bug man could ever be described as weak…_

' _Lift arms.'_

 _Sheppard tensed. They were going to search him? This didn't bode well. Yesterday, while undertaking enforced exercise out in the yard of the complex he'd managed to work loose a piece of metal that had cracked and rusted through; it was small enough to conceal in his pocket, but sharp enough to inflict damage. He hadn't had the opportunity to use it yesterday as he'd been beaten for not working hard enough and thrown back in his cell semi-conscious. He wasn't about to turn over his small advantage without a fight._

' _Well, I would,' he drawled, stalling for time as he continued to assess them, 'only this one is a little stiff after the beating I took yesterday.'_

 _He gripped his right shoulder and rotated it, wincing for effect, while surreptitiously sneaking his hand into his pocket and grasping the blunt end of the shard of razor sharp metal concealed there. The bug second in from the left was just a few inches smaller than the others by his assessment, and if he could take him down it left a direct line to the door they'd left open behind them. Of course, he needed a key card too, and that was magnetically clipped to a utility belt at his waist. He'd have to move quickly, but he couldn't not take the chance._

 _The biggest of the brutes looming over him repeated the order. 'Lift arms.' The screeched instruction hurt his ears with its increased volume and force._

' _All right. If you insist,' he replied, taking a deep breath to prepare for action._

 _Then he launched, throwing himself forward and slashing at the Kheprian second from the left, just as he'd planned. The first swipe gouged one of the guard's upper limbs, the second cut into a tube feeding into his face mask. That did the trick, distracting him as Sheppard slid the key card off his belt with the upward motion he'd seen the guards use themselves, breaking the magnetic hold._

 _A baton cracked across his shoulders, and knocked him forwards, but sheer determination kept him on his feet and running. He'd watched them use the card now in his possession, swiped it through the door control of the first set of double doors barring the corridor outside his cell, and squeezed through the gap as soon as it was big enough while the guards remained preoccupied with their ailing colleague. He knew every second of head start through the doors he could gain gave him a better chance of success._

 _Two of the Kheprians were after him by the time he reached the second set of doors. He swiped and squeezed, just as he had the first set, his smaller frame winning him a few more of those vital seconds he so desperately needed to evade them._

 _The third set went the same way, the calls of other prisoners ringing in his ears as he bolted past numerous cells. But he couldn't stop. He had to get free and find help. The Kheprians weren't falling as far behind as he'd hoped, their long legs carrying them forward faster between doors than he could run. Any delay would throw away what little lead he had._

 _But at the fourth set of doors that lead became irrelevant. Just as he began to squeeze his way through the separating doors, a metal-gloved hand gripped his throat and pulled him through, lifting him so high his feet dangled above the floor._

' _Where do you think you're going, Human?' a mechanised voice asked._

 _He couldn't answer even if he'd wanted too, the grip on his neck so tight it was cutting off his oxygen._

 _The other gloved hand blocked Sheppard's attempt to slice at his captor, twisting his wrist until he was forced to release his makeshift weapon._

 _Once he was disarmed, the armoured man dropped Sheppard to the floor and stooped to pick up the metal shard. 'It seems we will have to be more careful with you, Human,' he mused, holding it up in a way that suggested he was examining it, though Sheppard couldn't be sure since his face was obscured behind a dark visor. 'There is no way out of this compound. No matter how far you get, we will always bring you back.' The armoured man crouched down and extended his hand toward him, and Sheppard reluctantly handed back the key card he'd stolen. Next time, he'd try to escape while out in the exercise yard. No doors out there, but one hell of a high wall to get over. Still, it was worth a try._

 _The huge man shifted his head in a direction that suggested he was now looking at the Kheprians that had arrived behind him. 'Tolle illum ad monasterium suum.'_

 _Sheppard had no idea what the words meant, but since the guards now grabbed him up by his arms and dragged him back the way they'd come, he had to assume it was an order to put him back in his cell._

 _His feet barely touched the floor for the entire journey, their grip on him tightening as they passed the beleaguered Kheprian desperately gripping his severed tube to block the hole while his colleague helped him walk._

 _Sheppard's two escorts tossed him in his cell and ducked in through the door after him, followed by the man who apparently gave the orders around these parts. He hadn't realised the Kheprians answered to anyone until now. So, they were the hired help?_

 _The man stepped right up in front of him, took hold of his chin and turned his face to the scant light coming in through the cell door. Sheppard knew he was banged up – had felt the considerable lump on the left of his forehead, just below his hairline – and now this man studied it and the rest of the various scrapes he knew his face bore. 'You will be here for some time, Human, so I offer you this advice. Eat the food, drink the water, don't struggle when we carry out procedures and follow all instructions to the letter. That way, your stay here will be more comfortable.'_

' _No offence,' Sheppard told him with a sneer, 'but the accommodation isn't really up to my standards. I don't plan on staying long.'_

 _The man's hand slipped down to his throat again and tightened as his masked face pressed in close. 'You're going nowhere, Human. I have gone to a lot of trouble and expense to get you here, and there is no way you are leaving. Do you understand?'_

 _Sheppard glared in silent defiance, even though he felt certain his lips were turning blue._

' _Do you understand?' the man repeated, his synthesised voice taking on a menacing edge._

 _Sheppard still refused to agree, staring back onto his visor and hoping he was looking his aggressor in the eye with as much insubordination as he could muster._

 _In the end, it was the armoured man that gave ground first, practically throwing him to the ground so he only just had time to put his hands out and stop his head cracking on the floor. Sheppard coughed and choked as air returned to his lungs, his bruised windpipe protesting with every gasp._

' _I'll go lightly on you today, Human,' the man growled, nudging him over onto his back with his boot. 'But consider this your last warning. Learn to comply, or face the consequences. Phylacos breaks every man down eventually, and you will be no different.'_

 _The man swept out taking the guards with him, as Sheppard lay spread-eagle on his back, still choking and struggling to recapture his breath…_

Sheppard woke to his dark cell still coughing as he had been in his dream. That had all taken place so long ago now, and Sheppard sadly acknowledged that Akalus had been right; Phylacos had broken him in the end.

He covered his mouth, trying to stifle the noise so Mehra could continue to sleep. But the coughing fits were coming more frequently and were harder to bring under control these days, and there was little he could do to suppress it as he struggled to breathe in the damp, stale air of his fetid cell.

He felt something warm and sticky in his hand as he coughed into it, and when he pulled it back he saw a dark stain in his palm. Blood. It had happened once or twice before, just a few spots on those occasions, but this time it was thick and viscous and there was a lot more of it. Things were progressing; just moving was getting harder these days. His body was failing. In truth, it was whatever sickness had taken hold of him that had broken him down, not Phylacos he realised, taking some comfort from that.

He tried to take a deeper breath, only to aggravate his ailing lungs and trigger another coughing fit that felt as the it would rip his lungs right out of his body. There was no hiding it anymore. This was far worse than the cold he'd tried to convince Mehra he was suffering from and soon his captors would know that, too. He doubted sick humans were worth, much even out in these parts.

oooOOOooo

Mehra hadn't even realised she'd fallen asleep until she awoke to the sound of Sheppard's wracking cough. For a few disoriented moments, she felt completely baffled, surrounded as she was by shadows and putrid smells. Then, the reality of her situation dawned on her again. 'Great...and here I was hoping it had all been a dream.'

'You all right?' Sheppard spluttered between gasps.

She nodded. 'Are you?'

'The first few times you wake up in here are a bitch,' he croaked, ignoring her question and clearing his throat successfully at last. 'That's when it suddenly hits you that all this is real.'

She peered over in his direction. He looked no better than he had yesterday, if anything, he actually looked worse. 'The meds didn't work then?' she asked, changing the subject. She hoped focusing on something other than her own self-pity would help her to regain her composure.

'Apparently not.' And with that he dissolved into another fit of coughing.

Her face screwed up at the thought of all the germs he was spreading, but then, looking around, she realised his cough was probably the least of her worries. The food thrown in through the door the previous evening lay festering in a heap, with various weird and far from wonderful insects crawling over and through it. Her stomach turned at the sight of it and she retched involuntarily, covering her mouth to be sure nothing escaped.

'Don't fancy breakfast, then?'

'Surely you don't eat that stuff, Sir?' she asked, covering her mouth again as another wave of nausea reached her throat.

'Not often,' he admitted. 'Don't have much of an appetite these days.'

'Doesn't surprise me.'

Sheppard, checked his watch, picked up a stone from the floor and chalked a line on the wall behind him. 'Another morning dawns in hell,' he sighed, tossing it aside again and rubbing his forehead.

'Headache?' she asked.

'Just a bit.'

'Maybe it's those drugs Geeja gave you. You know…like you're coming down or something. You should lay off them a while and see if it gets better.'

'Not gonna happen, Mehra.'

'I'm not kidding, Sir. That stuff could kill you.'

He laughed, shaking his head as his eyes creased up with humour. But his laughter had an edge to it. A hollow, ironic pitch emphasised by the way it echoed around their cell.

'What's so funny?' she asked, not sure she wanted to know.

'The fact you think that's a bad thing,' he croaked, another bout of coughing seizing him.

'Silence!' a voice shrieked out of the blue, making them both startle.

One of the guard's masks appeared at the window of the cell door and glared in at them. That single word and his menacing presence silenced them both immediately, though Sheppard still coughed quietly into his chest every few seconds. Were they really such bastards that they would punish him for that?

The door lock pulled back, and it swung open to grant three guards entrance. Dusty sensed rather than saw Sheppard shrinking back into the shadows away from them. If they had the colonel scared, these guys had to be badass.

The one at the front screeched, something that was apparently an instruction to the other two to advance on Sheppard. Loyalty quickly overtook fear as Mehra threw herself in their path. 'Oh, no you don't. You stay back,' she growled, glaring her most menacing glare. Still, she somehow doubted it came anywhere near intimidating enough.

They paused for a fraction of a second, then the one on the left smacked her aside with his pincered hand, causing her to collide hard with the wall and crumple to the ground. Momentarily stunned, they were already on Sheppard and hauling him up before she realised what was going on.

The pain in her head didn't stop her from launching at them again. 'I said stay back!' she shouted, flinging herself onto the back of one of them. She was easily pulled free and thrown aside again.

Before she could rally and try to stop them for a third time, Sheppard said, 'Don't do anything stupid, Mehra...not for me.'

Dusty had never been the best judge of the difference between brave and stupid, and was ready to launch again anyway when Sheppard shouted a clear and direct. 'Stop!'

She froze, watching as the two creatures pulled him forward and forced him to his knees, arms outstretched at his sides and clamped hard in their pincers.

The third stepped forward and she saw he was holding something sharp and partly metallic. Okay, no matter what Sheppard said, she could see this was heading south fast and she couldn't just sit back and watch. But no sooner had she moved to act she found herself flying backwards once again, her back thumping against the wall and leaving her stunned into inactivity.

Sheppard's cry brought her abruptly back to her senses. The lead critter had jabbed something into his neck, a syringe from the look of it, and it was now filling with his blood. She doubted this had anything to do with helping Sheppard, but one more attempt to stop the proceedings left her sprawled in the mulch that passed as food in this place.

Once the cylinder was full the guard withdrew it and the two others holding Sheppard released their grip on him. He face-planted, apparently too weak to put his hands out in time to stop himself.

As the trio left and shut them in again, Mehra shook off the worst of the mess she'd landed in and rushed to Sheppard's side, helping him to rise.

'What the hell was all that about, Sir?'

'That was Wanless and his cronies. And he doesn't need a reason to do anything.'

'They took some of your blood.'

'Yeah, I noticed,' he wheezed, giving her a withering look. 'And I told _you_ not to do anything stupid.'

'Sorry, Sir. Guess I'm too stupid to understand the order.'

He sputtered into a half-laugh, half-cough, and wobbled worryingly in her grip.

'Are you all right?' she asked.

It took a while for him to catch his breath long enough to reply. 'I will be,' he croaked, but she could see huge bruises forming around his wrists already when he covered his mouth to stifle yet another coughing fit. She didn't remember him bruising so easily.

She knew she should thank him for ordering her not to step in, but their actions and the physical results so starkly visible on his pale skin left her fuming.

'I shoulda handed them their asses, vicious bastards,' she grumbled, helping him back over to his bed.

He shook his head. 'You can't beat them; they're too tough,' he choked out. 'Closest I came was yanking their leader's arm off...he didn't even miss a beat.'

'You yanked his arm off?' She realised then that the leader had only had three arms, and Wanless was one of those names Sheppard was so renowned for giving to their enemies. 'One less...I get it. Shoulda pulled off the other three, too.'

'It's not worth the punishment...trust me,' Sheppard warned, lying down the instant she lowered him to his mattress, as if his energy was completely spent.

'What? You don't think I can handle them?'

With obvious effort, he lifted his head to look at her. 'Actually, I know you can't,' he said.

'Can't be any worse than those critters we took down from Michael's lab, right?' she grinned, remembering fondly their mission to what had turned out to be their very own version of the "Night of the Living Dead". 'I took down at least a dozen of those creeps. Sure as hell would like to teach these guys a thing or two –'

'Enough, Mehra!' Sheppard shouted, instantly silencing her. 'This is nothing like that. These things...they're way smarter than those hybrids Michael created. They're bigger, and stronger, and we have zero ordinance to fight them with.' He paused, regaining his breath before continuing. 'The only reason you're not dead already is because they think you're worth something to them. If you prove to them you're more trouble than your financial value, they'll feel absolutely zero compunction about killing you. Do you get that?'

Though his outburst stopped her momentarily, she was soon ready to fight back. 'Yeah, I get that!' she told him, shouting too now. 'I'm just not ready to roll on my back and play _good prisoner_ yet, Sir.'

'That's _John_ ,' he corrected, closing his eyes as if he was battling back the urge to vomit. He steadied himself and began again. 'There are no ranks in this place, no hierarchy for folks like you and me. We just have our names...for as long as we can be bothered to remember them.'

'I don't do the shrinking violet thing, S...I mean John,' Dusty said, correcting herself. 'I was born to fight guys like that. I can't change who I am.'

'You have to try, Mehra. I'm not always gonna be around to stop you getting into trouble.'

She frowned at him, the insinuation of those words leaving a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. 'Why...you planning on going somewhere?'

A kind of weariness filled his eyes as he looked back at her, a lassitude well beyond his years. Clearly, this place had taken a terrible toll on him, both physically and mentally. He smiled sadly, shaking his head. 'Never mind,' he said in barely more than a whisper.

But Dusty couldn't let it go. She'd seen something in his eyes when he'd delivered his warning that had her scared. 'Why'd you let 'em pull you around like that without putting up a fight?'

'Because it's better for them to hurt me than you. It doesn't matter what they do to me anymore,' he said, rolling onto his side with his back to her as the coughing took hold once more.

That horrible sound and her imagination filled in the gaps that statement left unfilled.

oooOOOooo

At the Turoka Tavern, Lansha had just ordered drinks for himself and two visiting Chapellans when he heard the door open and a distinct hush fell upon the softly lit room. There were only two things he knew of that could silence a room that way. One was weapons, the other…

As he turned from the bar, he almost dropped his drinks at the sight that met his eyes. Mishta sauntered in, but not the Mishta he'd left behind at camp. Gone were her usual utilitarian clothes – heavy trousers, knee high boots, and a hip length jacket – replaced now by a dress that barely covered the finer of her more human attributes. Her long, slender legs, toned by many journeys between the rebel camp and the outskirts of Phylacos for reconnaissance, were the first thing he noticed, teetering as they were on a pair of slim-heeled, ankle high boots. What he saw as his eyes slid higher made him almost drop his drinks all over again. He'd never seen his sister looking so…womanly. He barely knew where to let his gaze settle.

Lansha felt his surrogate father urges kick in, wanting to fling off his jacket and throw it around her and insist she made herself decent. Instead, he pretended not to notice her for the moment, preferring to stay on task than make a scene. His sister was doing a good enough job of that without his help. He delivered the drinks to his newfound friends and, after exchanging some polite small talk with the Chapellans, made his excuses to return to the bar, where he grabbed hold of Mishta's elbow and pulled her into a corner for a more discreet discussion.

'What do you think you're doing?' he hissed, eying her with utter distaste.

'I'm gathering intelligence,' she replied flippantly, giving a teasing wave to a brutish looking Japhalan who was watching them talk.

Lansha slapped her hand down and held it fast. 'In the most stupid way possible.'

She smirked, tugging her hand free of his fingers. 'You're only angry because you think I have a better chance of gaining the information we seek than you have.'

'This is not a competition!' Lansha reminded her through gritted teeth. 'There cannot be just one winner. We're either all winners or all losers, and if you don't take this seriously, then the latter will be true.'

His criticism seemed to crystallise her obvious annoyance with him, though he couldn't fathom why she should feel that way. 'Do you honestly think I don't understand what's at stake?' she growled back at him. 'I'm fully aware of the gravity of the situation we find ourselves in. That's why I am willing to use any advantage I have to learn what we need to know. You should be proud that I am willing to use my skills so freely and with no thought for myself!'

All eyes in the bar had turned to them, but Lansha sensed it wasn't their argument that held them so captivated. The idea of what these males were thinking as they looked at his younger sister made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He suspected she hadn't considered the possible outcome and consequences of such an approach since she was so focused on outdoing him.

'So, how exactly do you intend to use your _advantage_ to gather this knowledge?' he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

She fixed him with an icy stare. 'Precisely the way you imagine, I should think.'

He huffed out a little laugh, shaking his head. 'And when they tell you what you want to hear, what then?'

'Then, they find out how wrong they were about me.'

His smile slipped as he realised she was deadly serious about going ahead with her plan. 'You're playing a dangerous game, Mishta – and a foolish one.'

His sister set her jaw, still defiant in the face of his criticisms. 'When I need your guidance, I'll ask for it. Until then, be your own keeper.'

Pushing him aside, Mishta approached the bar and the several males gathered there, beginning her flirtations, much to their obvious pleasure.

Lansha sighed and turned back to his own duties. Funny how Mishta was so keen to deny her human attributes for the majority of the time, but now, when the pressure was on, they were the very things she used to gain an advantage. Humans were highly prized and highly desired in this region. While others saw them as a delicacy, many in this locality considered them creatures of great beauty, so for these males to see a female who obviously carried human genetics excited many of them to the point of frenzy. They gravitated to her like flies to a cadaver and in almost the same numbers.

Still, Lansha had no doubt Mishta could take care of herself. She would have a weapon concealed about her person somewhere, though he dreaded to think where in such a revealing outfit, and the moment she sensed things were getting out of hand, she would be more than willing to use it. Despite their shared parentage, they shared very little else, including his belief that all life was sacred. She would happily cut a throat or two if the situation demanded it.

He returned to the booth where the two Chapellans sat, realising instantly that they were a lost cause. They watched his sister with covetous eyes as she leaned in to talk into the ear of a Birajan who had bought her a drink. He was unlikely to get anything of any sense out of them now. Better that he move on to another tavern – one where the clientele were not so...distracted. He would leave his sister to work this one. No doubt she would soon seduce her way around all of the males here, luring them into conversations they would normally keep to themselves with her obvious charms.

A little crest-fallen, he cast his sister one last disapproving glance as he headed out of the door. She toyed coyly with her long red hair, a legacy from their paternal family, as she sipped at a Talooka Sunrise. Their father had always tried to instil a sense of self-worth into the two of them to help them face the taunting and criticism from the Birajan children in their group when they were younger. He would have been sorely disappointed to see Mishta flaunting herself this way, a fact that no doubt fuelled her choice of tactics as it almost always did.

oooOOOooo

Ronon moved to the assembly point with the other six miners working in his vicinity. The siren had sounded twice, telling them it was time to gather for their daily ablutions. They all stood in line, staring at the floor unspeaking, not making eye contact, just like always.

This had been the ritual for the past four months, and though he hated it he had learned not to refuse or question it, a fact that drove him crazy every morning.

They lined up against a craggy wall and waited for the hose wagon to arrive. Their wait was a short one. The wagon pulled up in front of them and sprayed them from head to toe with a thick, watery substance. From the smell, he'd worked out it contained some kind of antiseptic, but although it had a reassuringly clean aroma, the greasy residue that lingered on always left him feeling like he needed another wash.

The group turned their backs to the wagon and, once again, it soaked them through. Then, the truck trundled on its way.

His tattered clothes stuck to him like a soggy second skin, cloying as if he was soaked in a feverish sweat. Eventually, the oil dried and brushed off, taking any dirt with it, but until then, they could only shiver as they worked while it gradually dried out.

The blasting did more than clean the miners. It washed away the remnants of the previous evening's meal and any bodily functions they had passed in the open because they had no other facilities. Dignity was a luxury they were denied. Nothing was sacred in this place.

The instant improvement in smell in their area was welcome, but short-lived. People had to answer the call of nature when it struck and though food and drink were limited, the sheer numbers of people in the mine meant the stench was soon breath-taking once again.

Ronon slipped off his shirt and wrung it out – thick, heavy droplets of greasy fluid oozing out of the fabric and thudding onto the ground – then shook his hands to get as much of the slime off them as he could. It was usually impossible to get a good grip on his pick in that first half an hour after the hose down. After that, it flaked away to leave his heavily calloused palms dry again.

He grasped his pick, and was about to get back to work when his gut instinct told him to turn around. He looked all around him, everything looking just as it always did, but something was different. He didn't know what it was, but something definitely felt amiss.

The hose wagon continued to trundle its way along the track, stopping off to saturate the less than grateful miners. Guards stood dotted about, overseeing the proceedings as they always did. As far as the eye could see, humans lined up ready for their wash down. Same old same old for this time of day.

Then, his eyes fell on the cause of his agitation.

It was him…Akalus…the one he'd heard some of the others talking about but had never seen himself before. Judging by the height of other people around him he stood at least six and a half feet tall, perhaps more. He kept his appearance hidden behind a full metal suit of armour, adding to the sense of foreboding his presence gave Ronon. He didn't trust anyone he couldn't look directly in the eye.

As if hearing his thoughts, Akalus turned his head in Ronon's direction. He couldn't be sure he was looking at him, but that was the impression he got as he turned his body to face him square on. Ronon stood there, pick in hands, frozen by that sense of trouble that now gripped him. Why was Akalus down here? And why was he looking at him?

A solid thump across the back of his shoulders sent him spilling to his knees. He looked up from where he'd fallen to see one of the guards leaning over him, screeching for him to work. Of course, he had made the mistake of standing still for more than just a couple of seconds. That was a transgression that was always met with violence.

The creature continued to squawk and shake its pincer at him. Ronon gripped the pick tighter and visualised burying it into the creature's head, but he knew better than to try. He'd done that before. He'd spent the next three days in what passed for the laboratory in this place. Instead, he held up his hand to acknowledge the order and began to push up, rotating his shoulders to ease the pain before heading back into his tunnel.

The guard hovered at the entrance for a while, blocking his light and making it hard to work. Ronon continued to chip away at the surface ahead of him, figuring he'd just check through what he'd cut away later. The guard wasn't his main concern. Akalus hadn't deigned to grace the mine with his presence before, so what was so special about today…and why had he taken a particular interest in him?

He had no answers to his questions yet, but his gut told him it wouldn't be long before the truth made itself known.

* * *

 **A/N: I have a few edited chapters in hand now, so I'll hopefully get another chapter out later this week, probably Thursday. If I can, I'll keep posting two a week, but I don't want to put too much pressure on my busy betas so I'll do it for the next couple of weeks and see how it goes. As always, thanks to those of you sharing your thoughts. The encouragement always helps any writer to keep the muse going! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

As far as Dusty was concerned, Sheppard's silence had gone on for long enough. Even in such poor lighting, she could see his bruises had grown larger and blacker in the relatively short time since his assault, and he periodically gave another bone-rattling cough that quite literally turned her stomach. So, admittedly, he looked like crap and his silence could well be due to the fact he was in pain and clearly sick, but she wasn't about to let that stop her trying to muster his enthusiasm to fight back. He was the only other person she had to plot her great escape with...and Sheppard had a reputation for always having the smarts to think his way out of an apparently hopeless situation.

'How're you doing, S...John?' she asked, still tripping over the informality of that term of address.

He lifted his head a little way and peered over at her, hesitating before eventually deciding he might as well answer. 'Sore,' he grunted.

'I bet. You've got some impressive bruises there.'

He threw her a thin smile, but was clearly less than impressed with her attempt at levity. 'I'm glad you like 'em.' He unbuckled his watch and slipped it into his pocket, no doubt to relieve the pressure on his injuries. In the process, Dusty noticed he had various other fading blemishes up the inside of his forearm, and wondered if they were from the drugs Geeja brought to him or whether he'd taken other beatings. She didn't ask since she didn't want their conversation to end before it had started.

'Those guards...' she began tentatively. 'The ones that took your blood...what happens if they find out you're sick?'

Sheppard rolled his gaze in her direction. 'I guess I become a whole hell-of-a-lot less valuable. That's why Geeja was trying to help me.'

'So, they haven't noticed it when they've taken samples from you?'

He shrugged. 'Apparently not. I'm guessing they have one job to do with the samples and they haven't been checking them for anything else.'

'Do you think they took your blood because they've realised you're sick?' she asked, knowing if that was the case it had to spell bad news for Sheppard.

Sheppard smiled grimly. 'Wanless has been looking for a chance to get back at me since the whole arm incident.' He shrugged again. 'Now he has it.'

He didn't seem as concerned about that as she thought he should be.

'Maybe they'll figure out how to treat you,' she offered hopefully, looking for a positive angle. 'If the harvesting missions are so expensive that has to be in their interests.'

Sheppard held her gaze, the look conveying his doubt and a sense of resignation that sent a cold shiver right through her. 'I don't think it's gonna be a quick fix thing...at least not fixed quick in any way I'd hope for.'

She knew what he meant. The only quick fix he saw in his future was a hopefully swift death. That helped her to make up her mind. 'Okay, that settles it. We need to get you out of here.'

She heard him sigh and he shook his head. 'We've been through this, Mehra –'

'There has to be some time when they let their guard down...when there might be an opportunity for a break out.'

'I told you, I've already tried –'

'But there was only one of you then...now there's two of us.'

He gave her another of those grim smiles, even snorted out a laugh this time. 'And good as you are, Mehra, it still isn't enough.'

Silence descended, but Mehra hadn't given up. She was still thinking. There had to be a way out of this for them. Next time those critters opened the cell door to throw in some food perhaps. She would put money on that happening the same time every day. They had to be able to use it. 'Do you know the layout of the compound?'

A scream rang out, prolonged and agonized. Sheppard flinched at the sound, and for a moment looked like he might throw up right there and then. She froze and listened until it was finished

'What's in the next corridor?' she whispered.

'That's where they do their experiments...the cloning. Sounds like a new human just got…"born".'

'That _did not_ sound like a baby,' she replied, grimacing.

'They augment the aging process. Human babies aren't worth as much as human adults. But Geeja says the process is flawed. The humans they produce are...wrong.'

Dusty shuddered. This all had a bad horror movie feeling to it. And now she was back to thinking about Michael's hybrids again. 'Wrong? That doesn't sound good.'

'She says they're physically adults, but they don't have the mental capacity to function in that way. They don't know anything. It's like putting a baby's consciousness into your body. You'd be helpless.'

'But they teach them how to function, right?'

He sighed, and she thought she could see him trembling. 'Apparently, they're not everything they should be physically either. These guys don't seem to know enough about humans yet to get the process right. All those clones know is pain...confusion...fear…Thankfully, they don't survive for long.'

A knot formed in her stomach. Someone had to put an end to this. 'We have got to get out of here and get those people some help,' she grunted.

Sheppard forced his weary body up onto his feet and crossed to the cell door to peer out. 'Talking of Geeja, where is she when you need her?'

'Away doing whatever it is Geeja actually does, I suppose,' Dusty replied with a vague wave of her hand as she joined him.

'I told you, she's a servant here.'

Dusty wasn't so sure. 'Yeah. But don't you think it's a little odd that she can gain access to the mootaq so easily...considering it's so valuable?'

She watched Sheppard's eyes narrow. 'What are you suggesting?'

'I'm still not sure we can entirely trust her,' she said with a casual shrug.

His eyebrows lifted a shade. 'As opposed to the big bug guys who are oh, so infinitely more trustworthy?' he quipped.

'Well, she _is_ stealing drugs.'

'From the Kheprians, who, if you hadn't noticed, are not exactly the good guys here.'

'And she associates with them.'

A frown scared its way into his forehead. 'No. She serves them.'

'So _she_ says.'

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. 'Let's not get into this again, Mehra.'

Behind him, the door lock clicked and it began to open. Sheppard grabbed Dusty and rammed her head into his chest as a blast of liquid hit his back. It rocked him – she could feel his unsteadiness – but the added support of Mehra leaning into him stopped him from falling down. The hose that had intruded on their space pounded the walls and the floor as well as them, washing away the food and the bodily functions they'd passed in a pit in the darkest corner. The whole mess was then swilled away into a drain that lurked there.

Once everything had been thoroughly drenched, the hose pulled back out of the cell and the door slammed shut.

Sheppard let go of Dusty's head. She pulled back from him with an accusing look, not used to having someone manhandle her as if she was a damsel in distress.

He saw her expression, and it put him immediately on the defensive. 'That stuff stings like hell if you get it in your eyes. I didn't have time to tell you.'

'Okay...thanks,' she said, relaxing again. She looked around at their mattresses, now saturated with the greasy, antiseptic smelling gloop. 'Not much chance of you getting to sleep now,' she said, dipping her head in the direction of his bed.

He looked over at it and shrugged. 'You'd be surprised how soon you get used to it,' he replied. 'Besides, it dries out a lot quicker than normal water does.'

As he walked over to it, he slipped off his shirt and T-shirt and wrung them out to get rid of as much excess moisture as he could. On both of his protruding shoulder blades were two large and distinct scars, still reddened and raised from the rest of the skin of his back. Below them, were numerous bruises of differing severity and age, from fresh to the almost faded, along with one or two fainter scars that could have been surgical in nature. The sample harvesting procedure he'd told her about came to mind, but not with those two bigger scars. She couldn't think of anything worth harvesting up there.

'What happened to your shoulders?' she asked.

He pulled his tops back on as he turned to answer her, but not before she'd spotted the matching scars on the front of his body, and the numerous other bruises and old incision scars dotting his bony torso. 'I told you, I tried fighting when I first got here. There was a price to pay.'

From the corresponding marks front and back she had to guess at some kind of impalement. The way Sheppard rotated his left shoulder now with a distinct wince told her it still gave him trouble so for now she decided not to press him any further. The details could wait.

Another bout of coughing ripped through him then, forcing him to sit down to try to catch his breath. He was weakening; she could sense the difference in him just in the past eighteen hours. Whatever infection had invaded his immune system, it was worse today than yesterday. She hoped Geeja got to him with the drugs soon. It seemed like he was going to need some help getting back to full health and if the mootaq was the only thing on offer, then she guessed it was better that than nothing.

When he finally pulled himself together, he looked up at her concerned face and gave her a lop-sided smile. 'Look on the bright side,' he quipped, apparently reading her thoughts. 'If I die, at least you'll have something decent to eat.'

She tried to laugh along, but a bad feeling gnawed at her, the feeling that there might be more truth behind that joke than her ex-commanding officer was letting on.

oooOOOooo

Hakkar flew his vessel in close as he did an initial sweep past the entrance of the fortress at Agrastan. The facade of the great building, hewn into a cliff face, was overgrown with climbing, twisting fauna, tendrils of leafy foliage clamouring up to all but the uppermost floors. A few more months and even they would be engulfed. It was a building being claimed by time.

Circling around, he brought his craft in to settle on the landing pad on the plateau in front of it, shutting down the engines and waiting just a moment as he looked up at the great door barring the entrance to the vast building. It looked as if it hadn't opened up in some time. It probably hadn't, he realised. No one had seen or heard of the Reliquiae in years. The last rumour he'd heard was that they were dying, and had shut themselves away for their own defence, preserving their energies as best they could. Hopefully that wasn't true. He had a deal to strike with the Reliquiae, one that might free both him and his troops from servitude to Akalus. But did he dare enter? He could be putting his life on the line, yet he'd decided the risk was worth it. Akalus would no longer control his troops. The Kheprians would be free once again.

Steeling himself, he disembarked from his craft, clutching his bargaining chip. It was fragile, and it was priceless...especially to the Reliquiae. It could prove the existence of their salvation, as well as spell the universe's end. He had no love for either the Reliquiae or Akalus, but if this meeting shifted their focus and caused a war between the two factions, that could only benefit his cause. With Akalus distracted he might find a way to free his people and bring the tyrant low.

Pulling a knife from his thigh holster, he picked his way up the broad stone staircase leading to the great double doors, the only doorway into the fortress. He cut away the web of plant life clinging to their metal structures, slicing and tearing until the surface of both doors was exposed and he could attempt to enter.

He saw no way to alert the Reliquiae to his presence other than to beat the door with his pincer, so he did just that, pounding three times and then stepping back a little to wait for a response.

No answer came.

After waiting a few moments longer, Hakkar edged back up to the door, considering his next tactic. There were very few things he feared in life, but the reputation of this formidable race of ancient females preceded them. His life was forfeit if they saw fit to kill him. He wouldn't be able to escape if they chose to pounce, even in their supposed weakened state.

Adjusting the feed on his mask to accommodate his increased heart rate and breathing, Hakkar made the choice to press on. Resting his pincers on the ornate handles adorning both doors, he pushed down, not really expecting them to open.

But they did.

The lock hydraulics hissed and a series of metallic clunks signified the numerous ancient bolts pulling back. Both doors retreated into the wall to reveal a vast concourse lying beyond them, strewn with cobwebs and a layer of thick undisturbed dust. He was glad of his breathing mask since he suspected the air would be stale and heavy on the lungs of anyone who dared to enter.

Taking a few cautious steps inside, Hakkar gazed around at the once splendid artistry of the great building, now falling into disrepair. A stone staircase headed up directly in front of him, branching off in two different directions at somewhere near a third of the height of the chamber, and galleried landings overlooked the area he stood in...but no one was there. The place appeared to be abandoned. Had the Reliquiae left years ago and no one knew?

A sense of relief mingled with frustration flooded through him as he realised his journey had been wasted. If the Reliquiae were gone, then he couldn't bargain for their assistance. Now he would have to devise some other way of winning his freedom from Akalus.

Behind him, he heard the doors slide shut, but thought nothing of it. They had been easy enough to open from the outside, so he hoped exiting would be just as easy. It was merely an automated system set to close when the sensors no longer detected a presence passing through them. He ventured just a few yards further in, searching about for any signs that someone had been there in recent times.

'You are either very brave or very foolish to enter this fortress alone. I wonder…which will it prove to be?' a husky female voice asked from behind him.

He spun, finding a tall, willowy aging female standing only a few feet behind him. Though she was still substantially smaller than him, she was taller than the average humanoid females he was used to dealing with in Phylacos. His nerves and the Reliquiae's reputation momentarily stunned him into silence, but he quickly gathered himself when her pale brow puckered into an angry frown, fearful as he was that silence would spell his end too soon.

He bowed his head low, and when he straightened again her expression had softened. 'Mistress...please excuse this most unforgiveable intrusion,' he squawked, turning slowly along with her as she began to circle around him. 'I would not be here were my news for you not of the utmost importance.'

She tilted her head and eyed him as a predator might examine its prey. 'Perhaps _I_ should judge whether your news is of such grave import that this intrusion can be forgiven.'

He dipped his head again, submitting to her superiority without question as he knew that gave him his greatest chance of survival. 'Of course, Mistress.'

The slightest of smiles curled her thin, bloodless lips when he looked upon her again. But her words displayed no such pleasure. 'Well...hurry up then. What is it?'

Hakkar reached into the armour-plating covering his chest, a move that forced an angry and mistrustful hiss from deep within the Reliquiae's throat. The muscles in her body coiled, as if she were ready to pounce.

'If it please you, Mistress,' Hakkar said carefully to placate her. 'The new I bring is regarding something I carry with me. I merely wish to show it to you.'

She narrowed her eyes while at the same time relaxing her stance, raising her chin in a demonstration of defiance despite her next words. 'Very well,' she agreed, circling him again as if gauging him and how much effort it would take to bring him down. 'You may show me this wonderful thing that you feel I must see.'

Hakkar allowed his claw to clamp around the delicate vessel concealed within his armour and carefully withdraw it, extending his arm in her direction before opening his pincers just enough that she could see what he held without dropping it.

She tilted her head again, her eyes flashing up from the vial he grasped to his eyes. 'What is this? You think such a pitiful amount of blood will buy your life?'

'It is not the amount, but what it contains that is the gift,' he told her, standing firm despite the threat.

A sneer broke out upon her lined and sallow features. 'And what is it this blood supposedly contains that is so special?'

Now it was Hakkar's turn to hold his head high. 'The power of the Ancient ones.'

Her eyes widened now, and she stared back at him in utter and silent disbelief. 'That cannot be...Your ships do not travel so far back as to reach them.'

'That is true. He is a descendant...but a powerful one. He will suit your needs, of that I am certain.'

He could see the doubt in her face...distrust tinged with agonising hope. She stretched her long, slender arm out and took the vial from him, grasping it tightly as if she feared it might fall from her grasp. 'Follow me,' she ordered him, her dual vocal chords giving the command in an almost hypnotic tone.

Hakkar followed on without question, allowing the female to lead him deeper into the building, deeper into less accessible parts that would make his escape all the less likely should things turn sour. The female walked ahead without speaking for the entire journey, eventually entering a room that looked like a laboratory of some kind. Hakkar was not knowledgeable about such things, but some of the equipment there reminded him of things he had seen the Birajan scientists using at Phylacos. Reminded him, but they were so much more pristine the true similarity was hard to define.

Carefully opening the vial, the female allowed a single drop of blood to fall onto a sample slide, then inserted it into a machine that whirred into life, scrolling data on a holographic display for both of them to see, although it was in a language he couldn't read. Instead, he watched the female's expression as she read the results of the machine's analysis, her aspect changing from one of doubt to one of wonder and bewilderment. 'He has found what he has sought for so long,' she breathed.

'The thing _you_ need,' he reminded her.

'The Ancient one...is she at Phylacos?' she asked, turning to face him.

' _He_ ,' Hakkar corrected. ' _He_ is at Phylacos...Akalus keeps him there among all the other human cattle to reduce the chances of anyone who might visit Phylacos discovering the human's importance to him. But the man is sick. If you wish to make use of him, you must first save him.'

Her joy turned immediately to concern. 'What is wrong with him?'

'An ancient Pegasus ailment that has long since died out...the cure along with it. One aimed to attack the Ancients specifically. He must have acquired it before our harvesting mission. Akalus has been unsuccessful in treating it. He sent me here to invite you to the compound to re-establish trade...a goodwill gesture to your dying race to sustain you a little longer. But he intends to trick you...to try to take one of you prisoner to save the Ancient one until he can serve his purposes. I wanted to forewarn you so you can protect yourselves from him.'

The female watched him without emotion or comment, as if what he was telling her was of little surprise or consequence. It occurred to him that she did not believe him, and her next question confirmed that doubt. 'Why would you tell me all of this?'

He had expected to be disbelieved, and had rehearsed his answer over in his mind many times on the journey to the fortress, so now he could state it with perfect clarity. 'Many may think Akalus is simply deranged, but that is not so. He plans to destroy everything we know, and with the help of this Ancient one, he _can_ do it. The threat of your race rising once again pales in comparison to the universal destruction Akalus has in mind. If you come to Phylacos, you have my word that the Kheprians will not stand in your way if you take the Ancient one for your own purposes. I owe him no loyalty after his enslavement of my kind.'

'Enslavement?' Now the female looked genuinely puzzled, as if surprised by that piece of news. 'You do not willingly do his bidding?'

'Our troubles are not of your concern,' he told her, unwilling to allow either of them to be distracted. 'This man is your one chance to become the great race you once were. When you come to Phylacos, if you keep your wits about you, this human could be yours.' He paused ensuring her focus was fully on what he was now saying to her. 'The Kheprians might try to stop you from taking him, but it is not their choice. All I ask in return is that my people are spared.'

She stared back at him, then a glint lit her old eyes and a faint smile touched on her pale lips. She reached out, allowing the backs of her fingers to trail down one of Hakkar's upper limbs. 'We share a common ancestry, your peoples and mine,' she purred, eyeing him with an odd look that resembled actual fondness. 'If we are to unite with anyone against Akalus, it makes sense that it would be with the Kheprians.'

'Then we have a deal?' he ventured, hardly daring to believe his plan had worked.

She dipped her head in acknowledgement. 'We will travel to Phylacos in the morning. Before the sun sets, the Ancient one will be ours.'

He noticed now that the female still clutched the vial of blood he had given her, as if her life depended on it. He supposed it did in a way. It was, however, painfully obvious to him that she had not mentioned agreeing to sparing his men. But then...he hadn't been entirely honest with her either, so he decided not to push for more. He needed the Reliquiae to weaken Akalus' position, to distract him, to redirect his focus, but he could not guarantee their unimpeded escape if Akalus commanded them to act. In truth, Hakkar cared nothing for the Reliquiae's condition, or some long forgotten shared heritage between their peoples. He needed Akalus' wrath to turn upon them so the Kheprians could rise up themselves. Akalus' death would give him the chance he needed to break his hold over them.

If a few of them lost their lives in the process, it was a small price to pay for the freedom of the many.

oooOOOooo

 _They came for him early in the morning, just as they had every third day for the past month. Until now, he'd been mostly compliant with the Kheprians, taking his chances in the lab for mounting his escape, but so far it had got him nowhere. Today, he didn't even stand as his Kheprian escorts opened the door and ducked inside._

' _Get up!' one screeched._

 _He didn't even look up, just carried on sitting on his mattress, back leaned against the slimy, damp wall behind him. The room was claustrophobic enough without them. He didn't want to think about how trapped he felt with them in here, too._

' _Get up now!' the creature repeated, stepping close._

' _I'm not going anywhere with you ugly bastards,' he growled, staying put. It was a futile effort. But it made him feel better not to do what they asked._

 _Two more Kheprians stepped inside now. Apparently, they'd anticipated trouble. Was he getting that predicable? Yeah, he supposed he was. He'd tried something every time they'd taken him for sample harvesting…although he'd tried something different each time._

 _One pushed forward. His chest armour – bearing two diagonal red stripes on the left panel – set him out as different to the others. A leader? 'You will come now. No argue.'_

' _You know what? I think I'll pass,' Sheppard replied, head held high. He knew he was just going to be dragged out and sliced and diced like always, but today he was feeling mean so he planned to make them earn their blood money._

 _Boss bug snatched hold of his arm, and pulled him up without further invitation for him to rise freely. The grip pinched his skin, further aggravating his already foul mood, so instead of just following along like the good little prisoner they expected him to be, he swung a punch. It barely registered with the alien and it made his knuckles sore, but he still felt better for doing it. 'Get your damn hands of me.'_

 _Next thing he knew, all four of them were piling into the disagreement, each trying to snatch up a limb to carry him bodily out of the cell to the laboratory where the freaky little lizard dudes could cut him up some more. Well, they could try but no way was he going without a fight._

 _He let one grab his other arm, then used the both of them as leverage to kick high, straight into the masks of the two trying for his legs. One mask cracked though it didn't break, but it immediately forced the guard to back off. Sheppard had already learned the masks were their major weakness due to the atmosphere in Phylacos being alien to them and he meant to exploit it._

 _With one quick jerk, he freed his right arm, slamming the heel of his hand into the mask of the other Kheprian he'd kicked twice before he could be brought under control again._

 _When the Kheprian he'd targeted tried for his legs again, he curled them both into his chest and then forced him back, the physical effort necessary to do it ripping a feral cry from him. Then he kicked again, this time cracking this one's mask to the point he heard a slight hiss of gas escaping. One more blow would do it._

 _But as he tried to swing his legs up this time he was wrenched backwards by the two guards at his arms. One barked something in his native tongue and the other one let go, allowing the one still holding him, their leader, to twist Sheppard's arm up high behind his back to restrain him._

' _Stop this, Human,' a now instantly recognisable mechanised voice ordered. It was Akalus, showing up just like he always did when things were starting to get rough. It creeped Sheppard out how he always knew what he was up to. Was he seriously watching him all the time?_

 _Not that Sheppard was about to listen to him. His adrenalin was pumping, urging him on to fight. He spun out of the arm lock, now gripping the Kheprian's arm as he dropped onto his back, unbalancing the huge bug man so he began to tip forward. Then, thrusting his feet into the Kheprian's chest, Sheppard closed his eyes heaved on the alien's arm with all his strength, thinking to break it. Instead he felt a pop and the limb was suddenly much heavier in his hands. It had come away entirely from the Kheprian's body._

 _The creature let out a squeal that almost burst his eardrums, but before any of the others could react he was up on his feet and swinging the clubbed hand of the detached limb for all he was worth at the injured beast, beating the injured Kheprian around his head until the creature began to buckle under his onslaught._

' _Stop! Stop this lunacy!' Akalus demanded, as more Kheprians poured in and attempted to restrain Sheppard._

 _His weapon was snatched away, and one by one, despite all the punches he swung and kicks he lashed out with, his limbs were caught up and he was finally under their control._

' _Stipitem egerunt eum,' Akalus yelled over the chaos._

 _The Kheprians carried him into the centre of the cell and dropped him on the hard, cold floor. He continued to struggle as six of them now began to manipulate him into position, seemingly adamant he had to be in a specific place now they had him down there. He wriggled, squirmed and butted anyone who came close enough, but he couldn't break free._

' _Tenere eum ibi!'_

 _All the Kheprians leaned back as one, still pinning him. What happened next was so sudden and unexpected that for a moment he didn't understand what had hit him. All he knew was it felt like something pounded him into the floor and knocked the wind out of him. Then he saw them, two slim metal rods that had shot down from the ceiling that had skewered his body and were now pinning him at the shoulders._

 _Which was about the time the pain hit home and he screamed._

 _Despite the agony, he battled to bring his reaction under control, determined not to give Akalus the satisfaction of seeing how much this hurt. Once he'd brought it down to guttural groans deep in his throat, Akalus stood astride him, looking down on his immobilised body._

' _Now that I have your undivided attention, I feel it appropriate to give you yet another warning,' the man growled, fists clenched at his sides as if he was resisting the urge to pound Sheppard himself. 'The shoulder has little flesh to protect it, but a lot of bone to damage. Fortunately, I have highly skilled surgeons within my workforce, who will piece you back together so well you'll more than likely fully recover, but I can't promise the same if you continue to behave this way. Each time we must restrain you like this you risk the loss of some function. No matter how skilled my surgeons are, they cannot fix everything every time. This is your future if you continue to resist.'_

 _In shock from the severity of the assault on his body, Sheppard couldn't respond…could only lie there hoping Akalus would bring this to an end. He'd had enough of the villainous monologue already. He really needed those skilled surgeons Akalus was bragging about or he figured his heart was going to give out. A cold sweat was breaking out all over his skin and it was getting hard to breathe. Was this guy really going to give him another lecture now?_

' _I have been lenient with you, Human. More lenient than is my normal nature. I have rarely had someone of your military background in my compound before, so I understand that yielding does not come easily to you after years spent fighting. But what you need to understand is that in here, your rank…your experience…amount to nothing. In here you are a prisoner just like all the other humans. In here, you are no one.'_

 _With is vision tunnelling, it took everything Sheppard had left to scrape together an answer. 'S…screw you, V…Vader.'_

 _Akalus shook his head like a disapproving parent, then stepped away. 'Take him for treatment.'_

 _The spikes retracted, forcing apart fractured bones and severed tissue as they scraped past exposed nerves and left him screaming once again…_

oooOOOooo

Mehra scooted over to Sheppard and tried to restrain him as he cried out in his sleep, pressing his shoulders back against his mattress as he writhed.

'Sir…John. It's okay. It's just a dream.'

Sheppard's eye's snapped open and he batted both her hands away in one quick outward sweep of his arms. Coughing set in as the cries stopped, and she sat back on her haunches to give him time to gather himself. It took a while, but eventually he caught his breath.

'How're you feeling?' Dusty asked. She didn't really need him to answer; she could see he was desperately ill, but she felt she had to ask. As he looked at her, it seemed his eyes had dulled. Something had left him, something vital. That thought scared her more than anything she'd seen here so far.

He sat up stiffly, wincing and letting out a groan as he moved. She imagined the harsh treatment by the guards had left him feeling as though he'd been hit by a truck. 'Oh, you know. A little rough, but I'll be all right,' he lied, struggling to his feet and staggering to the door to look out again. He had to prop himself up against the wall, as if his legs wouldn't hold him.

'There's no sign of her yet,' she told him. 'You _are_ looking for Geeja, right?'

He nodded. 'She'll be here soon,' he replied. He was on edge…shaky…and it occurred to her then that whatever good that drug Geeja gave him was doing, it was also having some decidedly bad side-effects. Maybe it was an addiction now, however innocently it had started out. Sadly, that was probably the best-case scenario as far as his symptoms were concerned.

'Are you completely sure that stuff she gives you isn't what's making you ill?' she asked.

The mask of anger dropped over his tired features again. 'Yes, I'm sure, Mehra. We're not going to assassinate her character again, are we?'

'No. I just needed to be sure,' she said quietly, immediately backing down from the argument. She had no desire to be the cause of another one of those rib-cracking coughing fits he seemed so prone to.

'Good.'

She watched him straining to see as far along the passageway as he could, the dark rings around his eyes a sickly purple hue in the scant light illuminating his features. He looked old beyond his years with all the crazy facial hair and the unkempt locks – old and exhausted. She found herself thinking he probably didn't have much time left now, and once again the desire to get them both the hell out of there gripped her and wouldn't let go.

'Talking of Geeja, can't she get us out of here?' she asked. 'She seems to like you. Why don't you ask her to help?'

He gave a pronounced sigh and dropped his head against the glass. 'I told you. Geeja says we're inside a biosphere. We can't get far enough away not to be discovered again. And you saw what those guards were like earlier. You don't wanna know how pissed they get after an escape attempt? Trust me, I know.'

'But considering everything you've been through, wouldn't even a short time out of here be worth the risk? And who's to say you wouldn't be able to evade recapture? You have some serious strategic skills, Sir.' He turned her way, an eyebrow arched. 'John,' she corrected.

He smiled weakly, and she suspected he thought the effort would be wasted on him. 'I'll ask, but I'm not promising anything. Helping us escape puts her in a dangerous position. It's a lot to expect of her.'

They both startled at a noise just outside their cell, and then the lock on their door pulled back. The door opened and Geeja slipped in. The sight of Sheppard's sickly pallor stopped her in her tracks. 'You not feel better?'

'No, not really.'

'I have more mootaq. Take it quickly.' She pulled a syringe from up her loose sleeve and passed it to him.

His hands trembled ferociously as he took it from her, so much so that he could barely hold it. Once it was secure in his grip he wasted no time in unloading its contents into his system. 'Thanks, Geeja. You're a good friend.'

Dusty did her best to push down the feeling that Geeja was deliberately making Sheppard dependant on her because she was the closest thing to an ally they had in this place. Much as her gut told her the girl was trouble, she knew now she had to keep her sweet if she wanted her help.

'You be better soon,' Geeja assured Sheppard, sweeping her hand gently across his brow. He flinched at the touch, as if even that light contact had hurt him. That couldn't be good.

'Maybe,' he murmured quietly.

His lack of conviction clearly had Geeja as worried as it did Dusty. She frowned. 'Why you not think so?'

'I didn't say I wouldn't get better,' he said, brushing her worry aside as if it was nothing.

'No. You didn't _say_ that, you just insinuated it,' Mehra pointed out, siding with the girl.

Sheppard threw her a withering look, and she shut up. She didn't want to push it too far too soon anyway. Geeja might figure out she was playing her if she did.

'They come collect you for exercise soon. You be all right?' Geeja asked.

Sheppard's shoulders slumped at the mere thought of it. 'Yeah, I'll be fine. It's just flu. I've had worse.'

'You rest now,' Geeja said, sitting him down. 'Much exercise to do later. Must not let them see you sick. Kheprians not like sick humans.'

'I know. I know. I'll hold it together, Geeja,' he barked. Mehra could tell he was trying not to lose his temper with his simple companion, but he was finding it tough to rein it in.

'I go now,' she said, taking back the empty syringe and pulling what looked like a small loaf from her pocket. 'Here. Good food. Give you strength.' She pushed it into his hand.

Mehra watched the tension that had gripped him leave his body. 'Thanks, Geeja. I owe you...again.'

'You pay me back some time,' she smiled, a short, sharp grin that suggested she wasn't used to doing it. Then, after casting a filthy look Dusty's way, she was gone as quickly as she came.

'Here,' Sheppard said, holding the bread out to Dusty. 'You look hungrier than me, Mehra.'

She held up her hands in refusal. 'No. I really think you should eat it.'

'I don't have the appetite.'

Mehra took it from him and broke it in two, handing the slightly larger piece back to him. 'Here. A compromise. We'll share it.'

He managed a feeble smile and bit into it, the crust proving almost too tough for him to chew. Just the effort of eating seemed to leave him exhausted. 'I might have another sleep before they come to collect us,' he said, lying back down on his mattress.

Dusty didn't say anything, continuing to pick at her own share of the bread as she watched him fall almost immediately back to sleep. He looked terrible, and the words of his earlier joke echoed around her head. She had a horrible feeling he really was dying, and it was possible it could happen very soon.

She had to do something to help him and fast.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you are continuing to enjoy the story. Thanks, as always, to those of you taking the time to share your thoughts. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Leaning back in his seat, Rodney rubbed his face hard, trying to wake himself up enough to finish the work he had set himself for the day. But try as he might, he couldn't keep his mind on task. No matter how hard he tried to focus, his previous discussion with Akalus kept forcing itself back to the forefront of his thoughts.

They'd travelled through time…been abducted through time more accurately…and he'd had no idea. He hated surprises, and that had been a real bombshell. Jen was long gone…and she would never have known what had happened to him. That kind of thing could drive a person mad. Had she ever gotten over him? Had she pined away to nothing after he didn't return? Had she found solace with someone else?

Oh, God!

Had she?

Though he hated to think of her pining for him, he hated the thought of Jen with someone else even more. Did that make him selfish? Yes, he supposed it did, but he'd never denied he was a selfish man. It was mostly a matter of self-preservation.

Calculations.

Rodney cleared the lump of emotion from his throat and squinted at the data, forcing himself to concentrate. The stellar shift calculation O'Neill had given them after downloading the Ancient Repository on P3R-272 would be simple enough to apply now he understood just how much time had passed since the last time the database was updated. But then he had to factor in the many intergalactic changes that had taken place – changes Akalus had spent much effort cataloguing according to the reams of data he had spent the past several weeks entering and evaluating. After spending countless hours reading about the death of planets, stars and even various systems, he felt happy to know he wasn't the only person with the destruction of a solar system – actually four-fifths in his case – on his conscience. Others had done far worse if Akalus' information was accurate.

What he really needed was someone to do this menial stuff for him while he made the more complex calculations…someone like Zelenka, whom he could abuse and bounce ideas off at will to encourage his thought processes. Despite the fact he didn't come near to his own levels of genius, the little Czech had a way of looking at things that sometimes got Rodney's brain cells firing when his thinking had become stagnant. Or stalled…on the fact he was thousands of years in the future and Jennifer had died never knowing what had become of him…

He glanced back over his shoulder and checked out the Kheprian staring at him from near the doorway. He didn't look like he would be much use in terms of aiding his concentration. Even Sheppard might have been enough to inspire him, despite the fact Colonel 'Coulda Been Mensa' had chosen guns over maths. Sheppard was smart in a surprising and sometimes immensely annoying way…a way he missed every day now he wasn't exposed to it on a regular basis.

For a moment, he allowed a sliver of hope to awaken inside him. Perhaps Sheppard was still alive in this place somewhere. Akalus needed someone to reactivate the Stargate system, and that would take someone with a strong natural Ancient gene. That could mean Sheppard…or any other Ancient from far back in Pegasus history. They had time-travelling space ships for pity's sake. Sheppard wasn't their only option. The fact he was still here six months after he was first abducted made Sheppard's survival unlikely. McKay couldn't imagine anything preventing Sheppard getting back to the rest of his team…He dropped his head into his hands and wallowed in the sudden surge of futility that overwhelmed him at that realisation, one he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge until now.

A nudge from a solid pincer reminded him where he was, and without question or complaint he got back to work. He was happy to lose himself in science again. Thinking about his team just made him miserable.

So, with less than a week to get all the necessary data input and figure out a way to activate the whole Stargate system in one go, he reminded himself he didn't have any time to waste on self-pity and wandering thoughts. And that would have been great except for the fact that his agitated mind forced another thought to interrupt him. Why did Akalus need to activate the whole Stargate system at once? Why couldn't they gradually reawaken the system a few gates at a time? It wasn't like they could dial them all up at once…

Except…

A shiver squirmed its way down his spine. Way back in the first few weeks of his work, Akalus had asked him about the possibility of a wormhole branching off in more than one direction at a time. McKay had told him it was impossible because the only way for it to happen would be for a DHD to dial the first point of reference several gates had in common and then the rest of the reference points of several different sets of 'gate addresses at the exact same time, causing the wormhole to diverge after the common reference point and connect at various destinations simultaneously. The Ancients hadn't built that capacity into the DHDs. Who wanted to step though a Stargate not knowing if you would end up at the same point as your travelling companions? And what if half of you went one way, and the other half of you another? And even if you made it through, how would you know what planet you had arrived on? What if it was the greatest find ever but you didn't know how to get back to it? It wasn't an impossibility, but why would you do it when the problems and risks were so high? The discussion had been in-depth, and Rodney realised with another shudder that in his determination to look smart and prove his worth in front of his intimidating captor, he had given away enough information to assist someone with even a basic understanding of DHD mechanics how to do just that.

But the power required to create multiple channels of wormhole would be astronomical. Even a ZPM couldn't manage that. But what if Akalus had gathered a cache of them? That could be enough to get the ball rolling.

Although kick-starting the Stargate system could be hugely beneficial to the universe, it could also give someone a vast amount of power over other peoples. Akalus didn't strike him as the beneficent type, and his interest in triggering so many gates, possibly at the same time, told Rodney this plan was going in a very bad direction. He needed to know what Akalus was up to. He couldn't continue to blindly assist the man if his intentions were as ominous as Rodney feared they might be.

He peered back at the Kheprian, who had backed off a few paces and had assumed a resting but watchful stance near the doorway. He doubted the bug-man would have any clue what he was doing if he dug around for information in files he wasn't supposed to have access too. Akalus had to have some information stored somewhere that would give him a clue as to what the bastard was up to.

Much as he'd always associated the term with spotty teenagers in retainers suffering a low boredom threshold, he decided it was time for Rodney McKay to turn hacker and get to the truth of what was really going on here in Phylacos.

oooOOOooo

Teyla ached from head to toe. After six months in this place she thought she should be used to the work by now, but it never seemed to get any easier. The lack of hope seemed to drain her energy and leave her frailer than ever.

She had never felt so weak.

But it wasn't the hard work and poor food that had made her that way. It was more than that, a deep-rooted sadness that sapped her will to do anything. She missed Torren…she missed Kanaan…she missed her friends.

The only member of her team she had seen since their abduction was Ronon. She glimpsed him now as she emerged from her tunnel and tipped the mootak she'd unearthed into the waiting truck. Though he still cut a formidable figure with his considerable height, he was far thinner than his normally muscular build, and his skin had a sallow tone much like her own. Six months without sunlight had taken its toll, just as the solitude had. And yes, she was lonely, despite being surrounded by so many other people. Ronon was too far away to talk to without risking a beating, and none of the others nearby seemed to care enough to speak. It was as if the life had already left them leaving empty shells of humans going through the motions of existing in this pit, and she found herself wondering if that was how she looked to them too. She supposed she did.

All of her life she had been surrounded by friends and family, people she cared for and fought alongside. People who would gladly give their life for her if the occasion ever arose, and for whom she would do the same. First it had been her Athosian kin, and then she had exchanged her role with them for a new life with her Atlantis family. But that had still been done with those she had grown up with in mind. She had known instinctively that John Sheppard and his people represented the first real chance she had ever known of defeating the Wraith rather than running from them. Even when they'd first met, when she had had no idea what college football and Ferris wheels were, she had felt a connection to John, the kind of trust she usually only reserved for long-time friends. She missed that connection. She hated not knowing where he and Rodney were. She hated thinking how her son must feel, waiting day after day for his mother to return, asking Kanaan where she was, only to have no sure answer.

Her heart ached, and her eyes brimmed as she took herself back out of sight and chipped away at the rock surrounding her as she had every day, almost endlessly, for the past six months. She would make it up to Torren once she returned. She would resign her post on John's team and find herself another role within Atlantis…a role that did not put her on the front line with the risk of leaving her son motherless ever again. John had promised her as they'd been separated that he would get her back to her son, and John never went back on a promise. If he was still alive, he would be doing everything he could to ensure she returned to Torren. He understood what it was like to grow up without a mother…she had gleaned that much from snippets of conversations they'd shared over the years. That would drive him on, just as it drove her on even though she felt like giving up.

As long as there was still breath in her body, she would fight to get back to Atlantis. And if she could somehow end the misery for the other humans held captive here, too, then that would be all the better.

oooOOOooo

Two guards dragged Sheppard and Mehra from their cell and escorted them to the surface for their weekly exercise. A little over an hour had passed since Sheppard's last dose of mootaq, but there was no sign of any improvement. If anything, his condition appeared to be worsening by the minute. Although he could walk independently, his legs appeared heavy and his shoulders drooped, once again giving the impression of a man far older than his years. His clothes hung loose at his waist and shoulders. This once fit man was fading fast and there didn't seem to be a thing she could do to help.

One guard pushed Sheppard in the back to make him move faster. He stumbled and fell heavily on his hands and knees, but he refused Dusty's offer to help him back to his feet. Sheppard was a proud man, and apparently not about to show these Kheprians just how weak he was.

As the guards opened the doors and the sun hit his face, Sheppard drew in his breath and screwed up his eyes.

'What's wrong?' Dusty asked.

'Just a headache. You know what flu's like.'

She did, and whatever he had that wasn't it. Out here in the daylight, she could clearly see for the first time what Sheppard actually looked like in his full sickly glory. His face was thin and drawn and the thick beard did nothing to hide his sallow complexion. Bent over by pain and weakness, he looked fatigued beyond measure. If he'd been a dog she would have put him out of his misery...and probably felt good about it.

'Yeah. I know,' she muttered, stepping out through the open door at a signal from their captors.

One of the Kheprians took Sheppard by the arm and dragged him to where he wanted him to start his circuit. 'Here. Run,' he screeched in barely recognisable English, prodding him toward a set of steep, stone steps.

Sheppard's shoulders dropped a little more as he looked up at them.

'Go,' the guard squawked, jabbing him hard in the back again.

Sheppard took a deep breath and forced himself up those stairs, each one seeming to sap a few seconds of life out of him.

Satisfied of Sheppard's obedience, the Kheprian turned his attention to Dusty, who was eyeing the steps and the distance between the top of them and the towering walls hemming them in, considering whether they were a viable escape route. 'You...come,' he grunted.

She didn't argue, following him to a piece of equipment that looked like it wouldn't be out of place in the Middle Ages. It comprised of a rectangular metal frame, criss-crossed by metal straps that held it firmly in shape. It was rough and rusty and scratched her back as he pushed her against it. He snapped shut a metal belt around her waist and shackled her at the wrists and ankles. From these, thick chains led to heavy, rounded rocks through a system of winches and pulleys.

The guard pulled one of her arms down, and the stone lifted off the ground. 'You do,' he ordered, stalking away to keep a more watchful eye on Sheppard. Mehra tugged on each chain in turn, lifting the stones only a fraction from the floor before the cuffs dug into her skin and forced her to let them drop. The two Kheprian guards watched her. She had the feeling they were impressed with her efforts, but it was hard to tell. They weren't exactly open books. Besides, right now she was more concerned for Sheppard, who was wobbling his way back up the steep staircase for the second time and struggling more with every step. There was no way these guys wouldn't see how sick he was even if the blood sample hadn't told them that already.

When he reached the bottom again, the guard grabbed him by the upper arms and lifted him off the ground. 'Faster.'

'Put him down!' Dusty yelled, desperately trying to divert the monster's attention away from her ailing former CO. Her idea worked rather too well. The Kheprian dropped him like a bag of trash and strode over to her, thudding a clawed hand across her face.

'Silence,' he hissed.

As the stars cleared from her vision, Dusty saw him pick Sheppard back up off the floor and throw him at the next piece of equipment. Once he'd gathered himself, Sheppard, used the heavy looking metal box he'd landed on top of to pull himself up to his feet, climbed on top of it and stretched up to a horizontal bar suspended above it, supported by two rusty poles. The Kheprian kicked the box away and left him hanging there.

'Up,' he squawked.

Mehra's heart went out to Sheppard as he strained, barely able to lift his chin an inch nearer to the bar. The guard stood behind him, a low rumble rattling in his throat as he watched his pathetic attempts at chin presses. Eventually, Sheppard summoned the strength to complete one, then hung limply again, striving to retain his grip on the bar.

The primary sun was high in the sky, the secondary now also visible above the horizon, and the heat had increased considerably in just the few minutes they'd been above ground. This had to be one of the hottest times of day to be out exercising. Other people emerged into the daylight now, some of them faces she recognised from the group she'd arrived with yesterday. Each of them was shown to an equally old and uncomfortable piece of equipment, and forced to exercise. In some twisted way, she supposed this was their captors' way of taking care of them. They didn't want them to waste away to nothing and be too weak to withstand the experiments.

Still, the guard hovered over Sheppard, like a vulture sensing its potential prey fighting for survival. If the results of his bloodwork were in, he no doubt knew it was only a matter of time. Any knuckle-dragger could see the man was living on borrowed time.

The other guard released Mehra from her rack and moved her on to the stairs. They were no real problem considering her physical training schedule, but trying to run up and down them while keeping an eye on Sheppard proved more difficult. She almost lost her footing a few times. She doubted bumping her way down those huge slabs of stone could end well, but she couldn't drag her eyes away him.

Sheppard's shirt had ridden up to reveal a band of flesh around his waist as he hung on and desperately tried to perform another press. She could see fresh bruising there, broken blood vessels under the surface of the skin. His body was failing, apparently so delicate she feared any knock or blow could leave him bleeding to death, either internally or externally. Whatever sickness he had, it was way more serious than the flu. This was a disease that was killing him from the inside out.

After managing one more press, Sheppard's fingers slipped and he landed in a crumpled heap beneath the bar. He didn't move, and Mehra feared the worst. His watchful guard prodded at him with his gun, but still he didn't move. Mehra raced to the bottom of the staircase, instinctively knowing Sheppard's inability to move would anger the Kheprian to the point of aggression. It did. The Kheprian raised his weapon, and brought it down on him, but only once. Before he could do it again, Mehra forced herself between them.

'Stop. You're killing him, you big, dumb bastard!'

Sheppard moved now, doubling up in an attempt to relieve his pain.

The guard brought his next blow down on Mehra, hitting her on the forehead and leaving her stunned, but still aware enough to shield Sheppard from any further abuse by wrapping herself around him as best she could.

'Relinquo!'

As Mehra's head cleared, she saw a huge figure crossing the compound at speed. Sunlight glinted off the armour covering the form from head to toe, causing her to squint as she tried to get a better look at whoever it was approaching. The figure stood a good few inches taller than Sheppard did at full height she realised as it came to a halt over her, and the voice, screwed up as it was through some kind of electronic filter, immediately set her nerves on edge as it repeated the bellow. 'Relinquo!'

Wanless appeared at the huge man's side, rumbling his disapproval at the guards, but deferring to this man's superiority in controlling his men. Was this someone important? Was it the top dog? This male turned his armoured head in Wanless' direction in a way that sent him backing off a few feet. All the other guards similarly retreated, leaving Sheppard and Mehra lying in an untidy heap in the middle of them all. Oh, yeah. This was someone real important around these parts. So, what was he hiding behind that futuristic tin can of a suit? Whatever it was would have to wait. Mehra could only think of helping her fallen comrade.

Certain now that he was safe from their violence, Mehra let go of Sheppard and rolled him onto his back, cradling his head in her lap. 'He needs to rest,' she said to the imposing male, hoping he would somehow understand. Sheppard had insisted they all understood, after all.

The male turned the visor of his helmet Mehra's way, but remained silent. Mehra had the feeling he was surprised she had the audacity to address him so directly. Then, his helmet tilted down, suggesting he was looking at Sheppard himself, assessing him.

After a short pause, he announced, 'He can go back to his cell,' in perfect almost robotic English, and gestured for two of the Kheprian guards standing nearest to them to pick him up.

Well, that had gone better than expected.

'Wait! I want to go with him. He needs someone to keep an eye on him,' Mehra insisted as the guards began to grab at his limp limbs. She sensed that she was pushing her luck being so demanding with this male, but she felt sure this big shot wanted Sheppard to live. Perhaps if he thought Sheppard needed Mehra there, he would allow her to keep him company.

Or not…

Her request met with a ferocious, 'You will not.' The two guards snatched Sheppard from her grasp and lifted him up by the arms and legs, his body sagging like a Raggedy Andy doll between them.

'I know human medicine. I might be able to help him,' she blurted out. It was a lie. All she actually knew was CPR, how to apply a field dressing, plus the Heimlich Manoeuvre which she'd once had to perform on McKay when he'd been wolfing his food after a particularly long mission, but they didn't have to know that. Her gut told her she needed to go with him because...because this might be it and she didn't want him to die alone. There, she'd thought the thought she hadn't wanted to think. Sheppard was dying and all she could do for him now was be there when it happened.

The male stared silently from behind his mask, but Mehra stared straight back at him, hoping she was close to looking him in the eyes since she couldn't even see them. If she wanted to convince this guy that she wasn't lying, she couldn't look away. Eventually, the male consented. 'All right. You can go with him.'

'You can't just carry him like that. He needs a stretcher - you do know what one of those is, right?'

Akalus' armoured body seemed to tense at the sound of yet another demand, then he nodded his head to Wanless, who radioed something through on his communicator. A few moments later, another Kheprian guard appeared carrying a grubby and shabby looking piece of fabric attached to two rusty poles. It wasn't exactly ideal, but it would at least be more comfortable for Sheppard than their pincer hands grasping his already badly bruised arms. Another guard stepped up to help with the stretcher, holding it at one end while the new arrival held the other and the two guards currently carrying Sheppard dropped him onto it. He groaned, but didn't protest at his rough treatment. It had to be better than the alternative.

Wanless stepped forward and grabbed hold of Mehra's arm, dragging her along to keep pace with his colleagues carrying Sheppard, who now seemed hardly able to open his eyes, his coughing fits the only thing showing he was still breathing…though with difficulty.

The journey back to the cell seemed to take twice as long as it had on the way out as Mehra listened to every breath scraping in and out of Sheppard's lungs. Several times, he tried to open his eyes, but was just too weak to stay fully conscious. Having shaken loose of Wanless' grip she held his hand all the way, stroking his forehead while trying to think of something nice to say, something comforting that would ease his passage from this world. In all honesty, the only good thing she could think of was the fact he wouldn't have to spend much longer wasting away in this festering crap hole, so she decided to hold her tongue and leave him in peace. He didn't need reminding of where he was.

At their cell door Sheppard's special treatment came to an abrupt end. The Kheprians tipped up his stretcher, and he spilled off it and onto the cold, hard and damp floor. Mehra was pushed inside, falling over him where he'd dropped though she managed to twist herself in such a way that she didn't land on top of him. Then, the guards slammed the door shut and locked it behind them, though oddly, she felt sure she heard a disapproving tone to the barked communication from Wanless as they departed.

'Bastards!' Mehra yelled after them, picking herself up and dusting herself down. 'And if you don't know what that means, I'd be happy to give you a definition!'

All she heard in response was set after set of doors opening and closing as the Kheprians made their way back to the surface.

Sheppard remained exactly where they'd thrown him. The only sound he made was that awful straining for breath. Once again, Mehra rolled him onto his back and gently brushed the dirt from the side of his face. His eyes flickered open for a second, but then closed again just as swiftly.

She couldn't help the sigh that forced itself past her lips. 'Let's get you onto your bed, Sir. You'll be more comfortable there.' And yeah, she'd used his rank. She felt he was overdue the respect.

She pulled him into a sitting position, then wrapped his arm around her neck and hoisted him up from the floor. With her support, he managed to stagger the few steps to his filth-riddled mattress, and then she helped him slowly down onto it, his eyes never opening. Carefully lifting his head, she slipped in under it and lowered it back down to her lap, stroking the dark, dirty locks back from his forehead.

'Bastards,' she grumbled, repeating her curse. 'They can't treat people like this.'

'And you...can't keep pushing them…like that,' Sheppard warned her, his voice no louder than a whisper. 'You have to promise...you'll do as you're told…from now on.'

Though her stomach gave a flutter of excited relief at the sound of his voice, she told herself this didn't mean he was making any kind of miraculous recovery. 'I don't know if I can promise that, Sir,' she replied softly. 'Maybe you should stick around to keep me in line.'

'Thought I told you...not to call me that.'

She shrugged even though he couldn't see it. 'Like I just said, I'm not so good at doing what I'm told.' She looked down on him, his face pale even in this murky light and his skin clammy to the touch. 'How're you feeling?'

'I'm good now.'

It was a lie, she knew that, but she let it slide and continued to stroke his hair some more. He seemed to enjoy it, and she realised it was probably the first remotely caring contact he'd had from another human being in months. She couldn't imagine how it felt to live in constant fear or pain for that length of time. Unfortunately, with no Stargate in the vicinity, it seemed likely she was going to find out.

Sheppard opened his eyes at last, looking up at her. 'Thanks for what you did out there, Mehra.'

She shrugged again, a little embarrassed by his gratitude. 'You would have done the same for me, Sir.'

'Yeah...I would.' His eyes slid shut then and he drifted off into a semi-conscious daze as she stroked his cheek. The thought that she would be his only company when he finally lost his fight for life scared her. It was a huge responsibility, and she only had one chance to do it right. So, what was she supposed to do? How could she make this easier on him?

'Talk to me,' he said, as if answering her unspoken question.

'What about?' she asked.

'Anything. Just say something…to block out the noises.'

She hadn't even noticed them, but now he mentioned it she could hear muffled cries coming from whatever lay in the next area of the compound. A lump of emotion wedged in her throat and momentarily blocked any words from getting out. She knew she had to hold it back because this wasn't about how she felt. This was about making things easier for Sheppard.

'I bet wherever they're holding Ronon in this crap hole he's giving them hell,' she mused, watching him as she dimly saw the corners of his mouth twitch up.

'That's a given,' he croaked. 'Wouldn't put it past him to find a way out of this place eventually...Teyla, too. His smile slipped. 'I saw her once just after we were brought here. I promised her I'd get her out of this place and back to Torren...'

He winced, then coughed. When he pulled his hand back from his mouth she was sure his palm was spattered with something dark she didn't want to think about. 'Don't you worry about that, Sir. I'll make sure she gets back to him.'

He cracked his lids to peer up at her. 'Oh, yeah? And how're you gonna do that?'

'Haven't figured it out yet, Sir, but I will.'

'Don't do anything stupid, Mehra. Teyla wouldn't want you...getting yourself killed for her.'

That made her smile again. Even as he struggled to hold on to life, he was still looking out for her. Just like he always did.

The door opened then and Geeja hurried in. 'I hear you sick. I bring medicine,' she said, pulling another syringe from her sleeve and offering it to Sheppard.

'Unless you have a few more of those, there's no point,' he croaked.

She obviously didn't understand the insinuation, and looked to Mehra for some kind of clarification.

'He's very sick, Geeja. Your medicine won't help him anymore,' she explained.

Geeja's face dropped. Apparently, she now understood. 'He dying?'

'Yeah, Geeja. I'm dying,' Sheppard wheezed, again coughing and again trying to conceal the dark fluid he was expelling from his lungs.

The news clearly shocked Geeja. She crouched down beside him and placed her hand on his forehead. 'I did not think it come so soon! Maybe Geeja can still help you,' she said hopefully, pushing back his sleeve and injecting him anyway.

'This sickness, whatever it is, has taken over his whole body, Geeja. It's too advanced,' Mehra tried to explain.

'You know medicine? You can help him?' she asked Mehra, who could only give a grim shake of her head.

Sheppard began to cough again. He rolled toward Mehra, burying his face in her stomach as he tried to get his breath back. She stroked his hair to soothe him until he recovered. 'Whatever's wrong can't be cured in here. He needs to go home to have any chance of surviving.'

An odd expression crossed Geeja's face – a cross between despair and frustration. Mehra didn't pretend to know what made this girl tick, but the reaction seemed off to her. Under different circumstances she would have called her on it, but now wasn't the time.

Geeja stroked Sheppard's arm and he tried to smile at her, but he couldn't find the strength.

'Geeja, you have to get us out of here,' Mehra told her. 'You can see what condition he's in. He doesn't have long now. You can't let him die in a place like this. He's spent most of his adult life fighting for people's basic rights...risking his life to ensure people's freedom. We should get him to the surface. If we can't save him he at least deserves to die a free man too.'

The young girl blinked back at her, seemingly shocked by the suggestion. 'I not do that. You get out, the Kheprians know someone help you. I be in much trouble.'

Mehra resisted the urge to slap some sense into her and kept her voice low and calm. 'I don't think you understand, Geeja. He's dying!'

'Mehra -' Sheppard croaked, his tone reproachful. 'Let it go.'

'No, Sir. She needs to hear this,' Mehra insisted, her gaze never wavering from Geeja's. 'You think of this man as a friend, right?'

The girl nodded. 'Yes. He give me respect. No one else give me respect.'

'Exactly. And friends help each other, don't they?'

'Mehra...please...leave it. She's done enough already,' Sheppard protested.

But Mehra wasn't ready to give up on their one chance to get out of there. 'Listen to me, Geeja. John is going to die; we may not be talking days here, it could be only hours away…maybe not even that long. This is the last good thing you will ever be able to do for him. Make it count.'

'Days? Hours?' The girl looked terrified. It didn't give her much time to act.

'Mehra…she can't get us past the Khe –' Another coughing fit cut Sheppard short, and this time he sputtered dark red blood out onto her T-shirt. His illness had weakened his veins so much they were rupturing with the force of his coughing.

That eruption of blood apparently focused Geeja. Her face visibly paled. Suddenly, she understood how serious this all was. 'He has only little time?' she asked.

'If he's lucky, he might make it to the next sunrise, but I'm pretty sure that one will be his last. Let him feel the sun on his face as a free man one more time before he dies, Geeja. You just need to get us out of the compound. You can leave the rest to me.'

Sheppard rolled onto his back and fell limp, any kind of movement now far too much effort for him.

'I cannot,' Geeja said quietly, tears springing to her eyes. 'I be in much trouble if Kheprians find out.'

Mehra's hackles rose. How could she be so gutless at a time like this? The man was supposed to be her friend and he was dying. How could she refuse him help?

Sheppard reached up and squeezed Mehra's wrist, opening his eyes momentarily to look at her. He wanted her to drop it, to let Geeja be, but he didn't even have the energy to say it.

'Geeja get help,' the Birajan finally said, breaking the silence.

'Help to get us out of here?' Mehra asked.

'No. Help John to get better.'

Dusty blinked back at her in disbelief. Had this woman heard absolutely nothing she'd said? 'He can't get better, Geeja. He's too sick now. His body is too weak to fight it.'

'We might find answer...something to give him strength to fight for longer.'

'It's not as simple as that -'

'It is. I might know a way. The Reliquiae can make him strong –'

'No!' Sheppard was almost on his feet, but his legs proved too weak to hold his weight.

Mehra restrained him, afraid that the sheer effort of standing could be enough to finish him off just when Geeja had a possible solution. 'Hold on, Sir. Let's hear her out. How can they make him strong? Do they have special medicine to do that?' she asked.

'No,' Sheppard rasped. 'They don't heal, they kill. They eat humans!'

Mehra looked back to Geeja for clarification, but there was no sign of worry on her face. 'They not kill him. I make sure.'

'Oh, yeah? And how's a simple serving girl gonna do that?' she demanded, that sense of mistrust in Geeja growing once again.

'I mean Akalus...Akalus will stop them. He need John.'

Now the whole of Mehra's spine was tingling. That was about the most honest thing she'd heard this girl say. She'd instinctively felt that in the way Akalus had treated Sheppard. 'Needs him? For what?'

'Yeah...for what?' Sheppard echoed, weakly lifting his head from Mehra's lap where he'd rested it after struggling with her.

'Not important now...all you need know is the Reliquiae will fix you...they not hurt you.'

'NO!' Sheppard said, even more vehemently now. 'If those bastards are…half as vicious as you've told me they are…I don't want them near me. I'd rather…die here in peace than...in pieces.'

'But if they can help you, Sir, maybe –' Mehra began, trying to figure a way to employ their skills but keep him safe.

'I said no –' he insisted, his reply cut short by more coughing and more blood.

'They be here soon,' Geeja continued regardless. 'Akalus invite them to feed. Need human blood to live. Been while since they fed.'

'Male blood…keeps them alive longer,' Sheppard croaked, regaining his breath. 'Something to do with...the testosterone giving them strength.'

Geeja picked up the story from there. 'They an ancient race. The males died...eaten by the stronger females long ago to preserve them. So there are just few dozen females left and male blood keeps them going. Human blood is best. But they not feed on John. They fix him.'

'Are you lying?' Mehra demanded, rounding on Geeja. 'Are the Kheprians going to feed him to them? Is that what happens when humans get sick and are no use to Akalus anymore?'

Geeja shook her head vehemently. 'No. Reliquiae not kill him. He too valuable to them. They need people like him...to help them change.'

'Change? I don't understand, help them to change what?' Mehra demanded.

'To change themselves.'

This was like drawing blood from a stone. Mehra gave an exaggerated sigh and pushed a few stray strands that had worked loose from her bun back off her face. 'Change. Themselves. Into. What?' she said, very slowly and very deliberately.

'Into what they once were. A great and powerful race.'

Mehra looked down at Sheppard, who lay motionless before her looking pale and sounding raspy as he, too, appeared to struggle to comprehend what Geeja was telling them.

'So...Akalus needs Sheppard...and the Reliquiae need Sheppard...If he's so damned important why is he down here wasting away in this hell hole?'

'To hide him from people who would want him dead. Most human treated like cattle, bought, sold, bred, eaten. But John important. If he treated different…someone might find out how important he is.' Geeja raised her chin and looked Mehra straight in the eye. 'They come in morning. Geeja know this. Akalus make sure they see Sheppard and make him well again,' she insisted with a curt nod.

'I said no.' Sheppard's answer was firm and final. He clearly wanted no part of Geeja's plan.

The girl looked hurt by his refusal, and fell silent.

Dusty's heart sank. Geeja seemed so convinced the Reliquiae could help Sheppard she almost wanted to force Sheppard to agree. But that wasn't her choice to make. He might have been MIA for six months, he might not officially be commanding military officer of Atlantis right at this moment, but in her mind he would always be her SO and she would always respect him. 'We have a tradition on Earth,' Mehra said quietly, stroking Sheppard's forehead to calm him again. 'We honour a dying person's last wishes. If Sheppard doesn't want this, we have to let him go.'

'I not get you out of here, it too dangerous for me,' Geeja said, looking down at him sadly and taking hold of his hand. 'I sorry you don't die free, John, but the Kheprians would punish me bad.'

'Then, perhaps you'd better go, Geeja. We wouldn't want you to get into any _trouble_ ,' Mehra spat, barely containing her contempt for the little female.

The ground shook a little as Geeja glared back at Mehra, another tremor this place was so infamous for. Distracted by it, the girl's anger relented and she pulled more bread from a concealed pocket and pressed it into Sheppard's limp hand. 'Eat. It will give you strength.'

He shook his head. 'No point now. It's wasted on me. Give it to Mehra.'

Geeja gave Mehra a suspicious look, then passed the bread to her. 'You no expect any more. You eat what everyone else eat. You no friend of Geeja,' she said. Then, she got up to leave. At the door, she stopped and looked back. 'I see you in morning, John,' she said.

'Maybe,' he whispered. Then, as she was about to close the door behind her, he weakly called out, 'Thanks for everything you've done, Geeja.'

Looking guilty, she gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement, then quietly activated the door and locked it on them behind her.

'Before you start,' Sheppard said, as he heard Mehra draw breath to speak, 'she has put her neck…on the line for me many, many times. She doesn't…owe me anything.'

'A real friend would do it one more time for you,' Mehra mumbled.

'She's done enough,' he reiterated.

'How can you be so calm about it? She might have been able to get you out of this cell so you could die in the open, but she won't even try.'

'It doesn't matter. Even if…I got out of this cell, it still wouldn't be home. I've come to terms…with the fact I'm going…to die in a dark cell, millions of miles from Atlantis. I came to terms with that...a long time ago. Now, you have to accept it, too.'

She noticed he said Atlantis and not Earth when he spoke of dying miles from home. And the city had missed him, too. The place had sickened in his absence, it's vibrancy paling almost daily. That special connection he had with Ancient tech had been sadly missed...as had McKay's immeasurable knowledge...and Teyla's wise diplomacy...not to mention Ronon's ferocious loyalty to the city and all those within its walls. The sudden disappearance of the flagship team had left a void no one could fill.

'I don't understand why you won't let the Reliquiae help. Geeja seems convinced they can make you better and you've got nothing to lose.'

'Geeja once told me that…the Reliquiae are so desperate for human blood…they tore a man limb from limb while he was still alive during…a viewing of selected prisoners. If I'm gonna die… I'd like to do it with some dignity. I don't want to be thrown...to a pack of wolves!'

Mehra felt decidedly queasy. Okay, so, if that was how they behaved she could totally understand his reluctance to meet them.

Sheppard started to hack again, the air rattling out of his lungs in a long, gurgling rasp. When it was over, it left him shaken and clearly in great pain. Even the simple act of breathing seemed too difficult for him now.

Stroking his hair back from his face again, she wiped the fevered sweat from his brow. All she could do now was sit and watch the life ebbing out of him, a fact that made her feel crazy angry and helplessly futile in one great whirl.

'You get some sleep, Sir,' she said, her voice almost cracking with emotion. 'I'll keep watch.'

He closed his eyes and rolled slightly onto his side. As he drifted off, she watched the pain leave his face. He looked serene in this peaceful slumber, all the lines of anguish smoothing away. Mehra felt tears begin to well up, but tried not to let them go.

She didn't cry. She wouldn't cry now. This was Sheppard's time. He shouldn't have to worry about anyone else.

* * *

 **A/N: Eeep! It's not looking good for our boy. Maybe it's too late to help him? I appreciate all you people still following the story. I should have another chapter with you on Thursday. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After visiting several taverns since the previous sunset, Mishta's condition could only be described as decidedly delicate. She sat on a hillside on the outskirts of the village of Faradah, her chin resting on her drawn up knees, watching the primary sun sink below the horizon. She admired the distant second sun, which still glowed like a tiny but brilliant gemstone in the sky just above the tree line, though she knew she would have to head into the village soon and seek shelter for the night before darkness completely engulfed the area and the bandits came out to play.

Since embarking on her mission to outdo her brother she had downed several alcoholic beverages, perhaps as many as she'd enjoyed in the whole of the previous year, and her system now protested bitterly against the thought of any further imbibement. She'd just eaten a loaf of sweet bread and guzzled down a flask of karrik milk to line her stomach in the hope she could manage a few drinks more without becoming so inebriated she might miss some vital piece of information. But this was the last tavern, she promised herself. If she didn't find the elusive race with the explosives they required this time, she would bow to her brother's superiority and allow him to take the glory. Nothing was worth the recovery she already faced following all this and she refused to make it worse.

Thoroughly tired of being drooled over, prodded, poked and groped, not to mention bored with sad life-stories of life partners who 'just didn't understand', it took a great effort of will to get back on her feet and motivate herself to face another evening of drunken parlance with this region's varied miscreants and lowlifes.

Once upright, she concealed her bag of provisions in a shallow hole, covered it with leaves, twigs and some flat stones to hold it all in place, then headed off to sweet-talk the regulars at the Lokorit Tavern some half a mile walk away.

Slipping in quietly this time, she dipped into a shady corner of the room to observe the customers before deciding which of them to approach. The bartender headed over to her, his keen eye for customers noticing the new face amid his usual clientele. She ordered a sangberry juice, hoping its refreshing taste would clear her head before launching into another evening of boozy revelry, then leaned back against the bar to sip it while deciding on her next move.

She was about to join a gathered group of Japhalans, when she overheard something that caught her attention. Someone mentioned explosives.

At last…she was making headway.

On turning in the direction of the voice, she was furious to spot Lansha engrossed in conversation with three members of the Entuurian species, who were obviously visiting the region from their home planet as they were not usually seen in this area. Their pale skin did not lend itself to such a warm climate as theirs, and the daytime temperatures in these equatorial regions of Gragoffa could cook an Entuurian caught out without plenty of supplied to hydrate them.

Mishta's first instinct was to use her wiles to take over the conversation and force her brother out, but then she recalled his warning of the previous evening and held back. This wasn't a competition. It sounded like he might be getting somewhere, and she couldn't, no, she _wouldn't_ jeopardise his breakthrough.

Her spirits plummeted as she realised her brother had gained the upper hand over her once again. Still, there was no point in dwelling on defeat and since there was no need to stay sober, she decided to order herself something stronger, hire a room for the night, and recover in relative comfort before returning to the hardship of life in their rebel camp.

Calling the bartender back, she ordered another Talooka Sunrise and gulped a huge mouthful back. This was the last one she would drink in a while. The Founders frowned upon such things in their womenfolk. And if they didn't succeed with their plan this might be the last one she would ever taste, so she meant to savour every mouthful.

Looking back toward Lansha she realised he'd spotted her, and an expression of worried anticipation now clouded his face. She knew what he was thinking. He expected her to cause a scene.

Instead, Mishta lifted her glass in a silent toast, saluting her brother's victory.

oooOOOooo

A siren sounded, waking Ronon from his uncomfortable slumber. A gritty floor in a cold, damp tunnel wasn't his idea of a bed since settling on Atlantis, but it was all he had, and all he'd had for six months now, so there was little choice other than to curl up there and get some sleep. And he often comforted himself by recalling that he'd slept on worse in his now dim and distant past as a runner. At least here in the mines they were sheltered from the elements.

During the night he'd been repeatedly disturbed not only by his own discomfort, but by the sobbing and groans of his fellow captives. It was always the same after a new intake. It took days for them to accept their new circumstances without tears...sometimes weeks. When the siren had at last sounded to herald the beginning of another day in the mines, he felt like he'd had little more than an hour of sleep in total, nowhere near enough to ready him for the day of hard labour ahead.

He slid his weary body out into the open and stretched to relieve his aches and pains. Teyla emerged from her own tunnel in much the same way. Seeing him up already, she gave him a quick wave and a weak smile. He dipped his head in return, but the sound of someone heading his way cut their exchange short. Ronon reached for his pick and bucket and was about to start work when a particularly huge Kheprian guard rounded the corner near his tunnel.

'You...come,' it screeched, signalling the direction in which he should move with his gun.

He didn't think he should refuse, so started out after him without question.

'Leave those here,' his guard said, pointing toward the tools Ronon still carried. 'You not need them.'

Ronon glanced back over his shoulder at Teyla, whose face was suddenly a picture of horror. People didn't leave the mines. At least, they didn't return once they did leave. And Ronon seriously doubted they were released with a handshake and a 'thank you for your service'.

He only hesitated for a second before putting down his equipment and following his huge captor, having learned the consequences of not following orders already many times. He had no intention of drawing unwanted and brutal attention to himself again. After the first couple of weeks he had decided to learn the art of patience everyone used to tell him he was so lacking in. Patience bought him time to heal, to watch things, to bide his time and figure a way out of this pit. He hadn't spotted anything obvious from down here in the limited vicinity of his tunnel, so he wasn't about to turn down the opportunity to scout out opportunities further afield.

By the time they reached the elevator that had brought him down here six months ago, he was one of six, each of them young and reasonably strong. Seemed likely they were being given some other hard task the others down here might not be powerfully built enough for. What was that saying Sheppard had always used when sending him on his way to babysit Zelenka on another science mission? Oh, yeah. A change is as good as a rest. A pang of sorrow awoke at the remembrance of his friend. He tried not to think about Sheppard because he hadn't seen him for so long and he couldn't think of any other reason he wouldn't have been selected for the mines other than the fact he might be…

He refused to even allow his mind to form the word to finish that thought. He would keep Sheppard and McKay alive in his mind until someone showed him evidence to the contrary. He would continue to plan his escape and the rescue of his friends…all of them…until the very last beat of his heart, or until the last breath left his body.

He cast a look around at the other humans, all alarmed and shaking where they stood. Ronon drew himself up to his full and considerable height. No matter what lay ahead he would not show fear. He might have learned patience, he might have learned obedience, but he had not yet learned to truly fear these creatures…and that would be their ultimate downfall.

oooOOOooo

After passing a comfortable night in a proper bed for the first time since joining the Founders' rebellion, Mishta should have woken feeling bright and refreshed, but she didn't. Instead, her throat felt like the sands of the wastelands, her mouth tasted of old plain boots, and her head thumped as hard as lament drums keeping a rhythm unheard but starkly felt.

Her decision to celebrate her brother's success now seemed a regrettable choice, especially considering the walk back to camp that lay ahead of her. She pulled a pillow over her face and blocked out the daylight for just a little while longer. For the briefest moment, she considered what her life could be if she simply failed to return to camp. She had a little money, could earn more if necessary, and then she could sleep in a bed like this every night...until life as she knew it came to an end. Cold shivered through her, the thought of their possible future or lack of it too enormous for her aching brain to comprehend. No, tempting as this bed was she couldn't give up on the fight; not now with the end so close at hand.

So, she rose and ate a meagre breakfast – all that her unsettled stomach would allow – and drank a large beaker of hot shallatus to give her focus a boost and quell the hangover brought on by last night's excesses. That done, she settled her bill and was on her way. Though she didn't relish the idea of listening to the rebels lavishing praise on her resourceful brother, there was no escaping it. She would pin on a smile and grit her teeth through it, just as she always did. He deserved it, she supposed.

The countryside surrounding Faradah looked breath-taking on this fine morning. There was even a little cloud cover, a welcome change considering the long trip she had ahead of her. Mishta made her way back to where she'd hidden her supplies, slipping off her dress and pulling on the everyday clothes she felt more comfortable in. She gazed out across the valley as she snapped shut the six buckles on each of her boots. The plant life was in full bloom and the scent of nearby chrysalyn flowers drifted to her on the breeze, a light aroma that helped to clear her head a little as she breathed it in and tried to put all thoughts of the stuffy, vapour-filled taverns of the past two evenings behind her.

At times like this, she wondered whether she'd done the right thing in joining the Founders. She rarely had the opportunity to enjoy a sunrise with a view like this. Her own people, the Birajans of Suporoan, no longer welcomed her. Members of the rebellion were deemed trouble makers who drew too much of Akalus' attention to them. If she ever tried to return to them they would at best drive her out, at worst, kill her. Every member of the rebellion faced that risk, but being a Human/Birajan hybrid made her stand out in a crowd more than most of the others. She couldn't deny who and what she was. Returning was impossible.

But out here in Faradah, no one cared if she was a Birajan rebel or not. At least they appeared not to. They were more interested in her human aspects in these parts, as she had discovered the previous two evenings. All her efforts had come to nothing…and her efforts had been considerable in some cases. In a way, it had been a relief when she'd realised Lansha had what they needed. It meant no more flirtation was required, no more tolerance of unrequited affection. So why hadn't she followed her original plan to down her brother's celebratory toast and get some sleep?

Mishta cringed as she recalled just how drunk she'd become before retiring to her room. Lansha had kept a brotherly eye on her while trying to continue his talks, and, thinking back, she felt guilty that she'd put him under so much pressure when his task was so vital. Unfortunately, her bitter disappointment at not being the one to supply the Founders with the information they sought had swiftly taken over her benevolent rationality and the one drink she'd promised herself had turned into six or seven…perhaps even more, she really hadn't been counting. She vaguely remembered a particularly large Japhalan taking an interest in her, a flush of heat rushing into her cheeks at the thought of their...interactions. The Japhalans were not an unattractive race, being related to Birajans by some ancient genetics, but far greater in physique and latent aggression…typically human traits that made her feel connected at some level.

Things had become quite heated and, with her normal inhibitions washed away by a river of alcohol, she'd decided to take him back to her room for the night.

Birajans were not a sexually active race. They chose life partners and only entered into sexual relations for the purpose of procreation, but, being half-human, Mishta often found herself dealing with urges her rebellion friends would not satisfy. Bringing younglings into a universe in peril was non-sensical to them, meaning sexual activity had ceased entirely in their group. She couldn't even pretend she wanted a child to ask another to satisfy her needs. This was one of the many reasons she despised being half-human; it threw her self-control off course at the most inappropriate times.

Unfortunately, seeking satisfaction from anyone other than the one you were promised to was beyond forgiveness in Birajan eyes. It led to instant exile from the tribe, or in her case the rebellion she had joined. She could ill-afford to be further exiled, but hormones and alcohol were a very bad mixture when it came to making good decisions. Last night, away from the prying eyes of her rebellion comrades, had seemed like the perfect time to give in to her desires and so she'd wasted none of it before heading to her lodgings with her would-be suitor in hot pursuit.

She'd managed to reach the top of the stairs before Lansha leapt to her rescue. His delay suggested he'd toyed with the idea of letting her learn her lesson the hard way, before his conscience had forced him to finally act. He'd tried to explain to the libidinous Japhalan that Mishta was extremely drunk and so not fit to know her own mind, but the Japhalan was in a less than receptive mood. He'd pushed Lansha away and tried to bundle her into her room before he could regain his balance. Lansha, though, was not easily shaken off, and stuck his boot in the door as the brute attempted to close it, preventing it from shutting.

Mishta remembered now that a fight had ensued, the large Japhalan having the advantage over her fit but physically outclassed brother. Lansha had taken quite a pummelling before she'd remembered about the gun she wore strapped to the top of her thigh. Putting it to the Japhalan's temple, she'd not so politely suggested he should try procreating with himself rather than her before she decorated the walls with his brain.

Reluctantly, the Japhalan had withdrawn at that point, suggesting there was some kind of unhealthy relationship going on between Mishta and her long-suffering brother. And thankfully that had been the end of the matter. The Japhalan had not returned.

Lansha had been furious with her, and rightly so. She'd put herself in unnecessary danger out of sheer petulance, and that was a terribly human thing to do. She felt ashamed that she'd been so weak. It was certain Lansha would still be angry, so perhaps it would be a good idea not to head back to camp until the time of the evening meeting, once the primary sun had set. Distracted by the news he needed to share, he would hopefully forget how angry he had been over her naivety…hopefully.

Just then, she heard the sound of an engine somewhere off behind her. Pulling on her sleeveless tunic, she snatched up her view enhancers and scrambled up the bank the brow of the hill to identify the source. She scanned the landscape as far as she could see. It was still early, but there were a few transporters moving in the village. None of them were big or close enough to be making the sound that had caught her attention, though, which meant...

Looking up, she spotted a craft heading in her direction. Thinking it wise to take cover, she hid among some rocks and watched as the ship came into closer range. It flew directly overhead, descending as it travelled. It was obviously coming in to land somewhere not too far away. As she watched, she became aware of the shining metal roofs of Phylacos glinting in the new light of the morning sun. The vessel began to turn in its direction. It was heading to the human prison camp.

Mishta adjusted her viewers, focusing in on the name emblazoned on the left rear wing of the hull. _Diiro Koora._ A Reliquiae ship. They were flying into Phylacos? Akalus had supposedly warned them to stay away from his complex years ago, so was this a strike against him? No, she didn't think so. They were hardly being stealthy. Perhaps their health was failing. Perhaps the human blood procured from the local meat auctions was no longer enough to sustain them. Everyone knew Akalus kept the best humans for himself. Several Reliquiae could feed from a human and gain enough vital blood to regenerate themselves decades younger. But, perhaps as they grew older, they needed more blood to make the regeneration successful. She wondered if this was why the Kheprians' harvesting run was so much greater this time. Perhaps it wasn't Akalus desperately seeking that special human, but a new agreement to supply the Reliquiae with human flesh. Perhaps they made a truce.

Akalus with the backing of the Reliquiae was a formidable foe indeed and such an alliance could make defeating him all the harder. This was bad…very bad. She needed to get closer and find out what was going on. They had to have more information if they were going to have to factor in the activities of the Reliquiae into their plans.

Grabbing her bag of supplies and equipment, Mishta ran down the hill, heading for the wastelands. It could take over two hours to cross that barren area at normal walking pace; she had nowhere near that length of time if she had any hope of finding out what was happening at Phylacos. No matter how sick and hungover she felt, she needed to run across that wasteland as fast as she'd ever run.

One way or another, the future of life as they knew it could depend on her speed this day.

oooOOOooo

The _Diiro Koora_ transport craft landed gracefully in the exercise yard of the Phylacos complex, narrowly avoiding the already battered equipment and the electrified outer fencing. As the dust settled, a door opened and a ramp lowered to allow six fluidly elegant females to descend to the parched ground.

The Kheprian guards kept a respectful distance as the Reliquiae swept by, their rangy limbs helping them to cross the substantial distance to the open doorway in very little time. These women were of great age, yet were as agile as the youth of most other species. Though they refrained from indiscriminate violence now, their history told a very different story. No one crossed the Reliquiae. Their reputation preceded them across this whole region of the universe.

Inside the entrance doorway, they were immediately met by the Akalus. His imposing form created a barrier between them and the corridor beyond him, a clear warning that he was watching them and they could only proceed when he gave his permission.

'Master Akalus. We did not expect to see you in person. This is a high honour indeed,' their spokeswoman, Oolanae, said while dipping her head respectfully to their armoured host.

'It is,' Akalus agreed, still standing square to Oolanae and her sisters. 'But since we parted on such poor terms the last time we met, I felt the occasion warranted my full attention. I trust you have come carrying enough credits to purchase our finer stock.'

'Of course. We understand the value of high quality humans,' the female replied, with another slight incline of her head. 'The markets of these parts supply only substandard produce...weak, mewling, pathetic creatures hardly worth the time it takes to devour them. We are willing to pay well for something...stronger.'

'Come through to the chamber and view the humans I have to offer,' Akalus said, gesturing to the next set of doors. 'I have some matters to attend to before we make our deals today, but you can take some time to assess them while you wait for me to return.'

They nodded and ducked through them, pulling their black cloaks in around their slender bodies as they entered the main hangar. A group of nine young human males were penned up there for their viewing. The Reliquiae sniffed the air, long inhalations in the direction of the prisoners as they cowered away from them.

All but one.

This one stood tall, almost as tall as them. He glared with a ferocity they had not witnessed for a long time from between long ropes of filthy hair, his skin filthied up by hard work and punishment. He smelled strong...defiant. His blood would sustain them for some considerable time.

'There are a few good specimens here to help with your regeneration. Fine young men,' Akalus boasted, standing before the finest of those as if it were a warning not to touch him just yet.

The Reliquiae eyed the rest of the group. There were, indeed, at least three strong men who could provide them with sustenance worth the journey they had made. But the one they really sought, the one the Kheprian had promised to deliver, was not amongst them.

Oolanae looked about at the Kheprian guards surrounding them, wondering whether any of them would help them find their target. The one she had dealt with at Agrastan was not here, and she could not trust these others. But she was prepared to wait…a while.

'Very well,' she agreed on behalf of her sisters, who now all bowed their heads in acceptance. Akalus made no move to bow in return, simply striding from the room, leaving them in the capable hands of his Kheprian guards.

And so, the Reliquiae waited.

oooOOOooo

The sound of the door lock pulling back woke Dusty from her sleep. It took her a couple of seconds to remember where she was, but then her eyes fell on Sheppard, lying pale and still in her lap, and a sick wave of remembrance washed over her. How could she have fallen asleep in his time of need?

The door opened to reveal Wanless. He looked at Sheppard's inert body, lying pale and still in Mehra's lap where she cradled him, and he faltered a moment before approaching him and nudging him with his foot.

'Back off, you lousy piece of crap,' Mehra growled, knocking his leg away.

'Is he...?' the creature began, his voice grating painfully on her eardrums.

Mehra was about to confirm his question when Sheppard took a shuddering breath and strained his eyes open, his body trembling into wakefulness. Mehra almost burst into tears of sheer relief that she hadn't let him down after all. He was still with her. 'Hey, Sir,' she grinned down at him.

Sheppard managed only a ghost of a smile in return. 'Hey yourself.'

'You still alive!' Wanless screeched, surprisingly pleased by that discovery.

Though initially startled to find they had the Kheprian for company, Sheppard was too weak to react any further. 'Apparently so,' he sighed, unable to hide his disappointment.

The Kheprian guard snatched hold of Sheppard's arm and tried to drag him up.

'Where are you taking him?' Mehra demanded, immediately on the defensive as she wrapped her arm over him and held him down.

'Laboratory,' Wanless squawked, yanking Sheppard's boneless form into a more upright position, then hauling him up onto his shoulder before heading for the door.

Dusty flung herself in front of them. 'Whoa, whoa, whoa! Just hang on a minute. If he's going, I'm going too.'

The Kheprian rumbled deep in his throat.

Mehra stood her ground, refusing to show any fear. 'I mean it. You wanna take him, you have to get past me first.'

The tension hung thickly between them, with Mehra bracing herself to take the blow she had absolutely no doubt would be coming her way. Unexpectedly, with little more than a snort, the Kheprian grunted, 'If you insist.'

She stepped aside to let him pass and then followed him into the corridor.

'You may come to regret your decision,' the creature added, the cryptic comment making her falter for just a second, before hurrying to catch up. Much as her curiosity told her to demand to know what that meant, she had to keep her priorities straight. Get Sheppard to the laboratory first, ask questions later.

As they journeyed, Sheppard let out an occasional groan, which although pitiful at least let her know he was still alive. The Kheprian moved fast, but with a lumbering gait that shook through Sheppard each time one of his huge feet hit the solid floors. She winced with each sound, a little fearful that the movement might just finish him off. But what other option was there? He was dying; he either went to the laboratory with all the risks moving him entailed or died in his cell. It had to be worth taking the chance.

A few minutes later Wanless stopped at some doors that pulled back to reveal a box room. Mehra gave him a dubious look. That didn't look much like an laboratory. She stepped back, unwilling to enter.

'Inside. This quick way up.'

An elevator. That was exactly what they needed.

Wanless stepped inside and lowered Sheppard from his shoulder. Mehra leaned him against the wall so she could rest while the lift took them up several levels. He slid to the floor, his legs refusing to hold his weight. They let him sit for the time it took the elevator to make the journey upward. No point in putting unnecessary duress on his body. Mehra squatted down beside him. 'How're you doing, Sir?'

He could barely get his breath, but he gave a 'thumbs up' to show he felt okay. She wasn't entirely convinced, but as long as he could still move and respond, there might still be a chance to save him.

The lift groaned to a noisy halt, and the doors slid open to an apparently empty corridor. Once again, Wanless hoisted Sheppard up, forcing another wheeze from his strained lungs, and carried him out into the passageway to continue their upward journey. On this level, the atmosphere felt lighter and the air smelled fresher and slightly warmer. They had to be nearing the surface, moving free of the damp depths of the underground prisons.

Then Wanless unexpectedly activated a door on the left and ducked in through it. He lowered Sheppard to the floor once more and Mehra scooted in past him to check he was okay. They found themselves crouching in the shadows of the balcony overlooking the hangar she'd first woken up in, and beneath their level she could hear voices, female voices, speaking quietly to one another in a language she did not recognise. She looked up at the Kheprian as he began to depart. 'You said you were taking us to the laboratory,' she hissed, conscious of the figures gathered below them.

'Wait here,' he told her, turning away.

She jumped up and caught hold of one of his arms. 'No, you wait. Sheppard doesn't have time to hang around until you're ready to see your orders through. He needs help now or it might be too late.'

The creature simply glared back at her in silence, then snatched his limb free, repeating, 'Wait here.'

'What? No…wait…' she tried again, but the door was already sliding shut between them as the words left her mouth.

Sheppard leaned back against the low wall beneath the rails and desperately sucked in shallow breaths. Mehra watched him struggling, and crouched beside him, taking hold of his hand. 'Hang on in there, Sir. He'll be back soon,' she promised him, though she had no idea if that was true. 'We're almost there.'

He nodded to acknowledge her encouragement, but he couldn't find breath enough to speak. Even lost in those shadows, she could see the life draining from him in front of her eyes. The minutes ticked by painfully slowly and still there was no sign of their escort. Where the hell was Wanless? What was taking him so long?

oooOOOooo

By now the Reliquiae's patience was wearing thin. The Kheprian guards they had questioned assured them Akalus would return to make their trade soon, but as yet they had caught no sign of any humans other than those Akalus had offered them and they were here for more than that. Had the Kheprian leader tricked them?

Oolanae took a step closer to the tall human, the one exuding rebellious fury in his glare, savouring the scent of his defiance. Oh, his flesh would indeed taste sweet as he screamed out his last. She could barely contain her desire to taste that strength and feel the luxury of rejuvenation fill her veins.

'Back off...' the human growled, and he even had the audacity to grin at her as if he relished the thought of battle. Foolish child. He didn't stand a chance against them. All his taunting did was ensure a more painful death. She almost pitied him.

Akalus returned at last, offering no apology for the delay nor the sore temptation he had left them with.

'I take it you have had ample time to appraise the stock?' he asked, his mechanically filtered voice devoid of emotion as he addressed them.

Oolanae looked to her sisters, who all dipped their heads, telepathically agreeing to the choice she had made herself in Akalus' absence. 'We have, Mas –' Oolanae stopped, picking up another human scent. It was more distant, but definitely unmistakably human, '—ter…Akalus.'

For a moment Oolanae was lost in dim and very distant memories collected many, many years ago by others of her kind. The scent awakened an old fire that had long since guttered out...a yearning to return to what once was...

' _Do you smell that?'_ one of her sisters asked, her voice a mere echo inside Oolanae's head.

' _I do.'_

' _It reeks of Lantean. He is near. The Kheprian did not lie.'_

Oolanae scanned the room with keen eyes. They had long heard the rumours of Akalus' constant search for someone of Lantean descent to fulfil his life's work. It seemed he really had managed to locate someone to do that, just as the Kheprian had informed them. As such, it was imperative they removed the Lantean from Phylacos. The scent was close...somewhere nearby. There was a gantry running along the higher level of the room. He could possibly be concealed there, but she needed to pinpoint his location before attempting to obtain him. Any mistake now could lose them valuable time and give Akalus the advantage in the confrontation to come.

Her gaze drifted back to their host while she silently instructed her sisters to use their senses to locate the Lantean's position on the upper level. 'We'll take the three largest specimens...will one thousand credits each suffice?'

Akalus inclined his helmeted head. 'I think this one at least should bring a little more,' he suggested, jabbing a stun-stick into the towering young male he clearly knew interested them most. The human dropped to his knees, expletives exploding out through his clenched teeth even as he cast Akalus a murderous scowl.

Humans could be such coarse creatures, but unfortunately they were also necessary to the survival of their race. Oolanae ignored the eruption of foul words. 'How much more do you require?'

There was a definite pause, but Oolanae wasn't foolish enough to think he was nervous about voicing his proposal. This was for psychological impact, nothing more. 'I do not need more credits, if that is what you're thinking. I need something else...something a little more personal to you.'

Oolanae lifted her chin and looked squarely at their host. 'Name your terms.'

'Enzyme.'

Akalus thrust out a hand toward her, and Oolanae looked at the contents it cradled – a syringe.

'We share the enzyme with no one,' she said firmly. And this had been the way through all time. Akalus had to know he was asking for too much.

'Then –' With a flick of his wrist Akalus triggered a previously concealed weapon that blew a hole straight through the midriff of one of her Reliquiae sisters. 'I am forced to take it for myself.'

oooOOOooo

Up in the gantry, Mehra was desperately trying to keep Sheppard conscious. As he started to slouch she propped him up straight against the barrier and called his name as loudly as she dared, eventually adding a sharp slap to the equation that had his eyes instantly snapping open.

'Stay with me, Sir. Wanless will be back soon.'

He grumbled an incomprehensibly garbled reply, his eyes already sliding shut again. She sighed and let him rest. There was no way to keep him going if he had no energy left.

Mehra wasn't easily creeped out, but this place, with its encroaching shadows and foul stenches, had her distinctly on edge. She'd have felt a whole lot happier with a P-90 in her hands...and with Sheppard looking like he might be able to fight his corner. But right now, she doubted he could blow his own nose. And she was supposed to just sit here until Wanless came back for them?

No way.

She was about to drag Sheppard up and haul his skinny ass out of there when a fracas from the lower level caught her attention. Temporarily abandoning her plan, she crawled to the barrier and cautiously peeked over to get a look at what was going on.

There were several scarily tall women, hissing and screeching, emitting a baleful cry with harmonics that shook the rafters. Were they the Reliquiae Geeja had told them about? She covered her ears, as did the aliens and humans gathered down in that lower level. She felt sure her eardrums were going to burst from the reverberations. Sheppard stirred, not surprising since Mehra had been thinking the noise could wake the dead. He said something, but she couldn't hear him above the din, his moment of lucidity wasted.

As the noise began to subside, her eyes locked onto one of the human figures down there, a huge, dread-locked man fighting for all he was worth to get the hell out of there. 'Oh, my God! Ronon!' she breathed, a reaction that immediately had Sheppard rousing and clambering to take a look for himself.

She supported him as he looked down into the chamber, watching as the faintest of smiles crossed his face as he saw the huge warrior fighting for his life. The relief at seeing one of his team mates alive, tempered, of course, by the immediate danger he was in, had to be immense after six months of not knowing...not daring to hope... not that he had the energy to show it. He sank back down to the floor even as Mehra desperately tried to keep him upright.

'We need to…help him,' Sheppard grunted, his efforts leaving him gasping for breath.

'I hate to point this out, Sir, but we're not exactly in a position to do that.'

That was a thought that screwed her up inside until she saw Ronon break free from the grip of an apparently injured female and bolt for an exit. With her attention thus distracted, she had no way of realising they themselves had been spotted by the Reliquiae. So, when a lithe figure came crashing over the barrier and planted itself in the path between them and the exit from the gantry, all Mehra could do was watch in horror as the female snatched Sheppard from her grip and swept him over the rail and back down to ground level.

For a second or two Mehra was frozen rigid with shock, then she threw herself over to the barrier to look down to where the female had landed.

Utter carnage erupted at that moment. The injured Reliquiae grabbed hold of a stunned human male and proceeded to tear him limb from limb, devouring his flesh as if her very life depended on it. And perhaps it did, because when her meal finally stopped squirming and she had eaten her fill, she seemed suddenly more vital, her injured body apparently now healed enough for her to fight for herself.

Suddenly, the silence that had befallen everyone as that horror had unfolded was split by a piercing scream as one of the other men fell to his knees, hysterical at what he clearly believed would also be his fate. And once he had started, the others began to scream and plead for their lives too. The Reliquiae, ignoring them, launched for Akalus, each grasping a limb and pulling with all their strength, but to no avail. His clothing and armour tore apart, the burst of power that action released knocking them all backwards and leaving an empty mangled suit at the centre of their gathering. The females hissed, frustrated to find they had been tricked by a facsimile, and turned their attentions to the cowering humans. The cries of terror soon turned to agony as each one of the other human prisoners was ripped and torn like a gazelle brought down by a pride of lions. And all the time the female that had taken Sheppard kept a grip on his arms, holding him like a limp rag doll before her, never harming him, but never once releasing her hold on him either.

Mehra watched as much as she could, desperate to see what would become of Sheppard, but at times she just had to look away. She'd never considered herself squeamish; quite the opposite in fact. But she'd never borne witness to anything as depraved as this orgy of blood before, either. Apparently, even she had an upper limit to the amount of gore she could cope with and this carnage took her there and far beyond it.

Thankfully, Sheppard appeared to be unconscious and remained that way throughout the whole sordid scene whenever she looked his way. Just as Geeja had suggested, the Reliquiae didn't appear interested in eating Sheppard himself. She seriously hoped it stayed that way.

Wanless appeared in the midst of the fracas, screeching orders to his men and pulling them aside, making no attempt to intercept the Reliquiae or to retrieve Sheppard from their grasp. Why wasn't he trying to stop them, and why was he stopping his soldiers from intervening? If Geeja knew Sheppard was valuable to Akalus, didn't he?

The whole building began to shake from foundations to rafters. What the hell was it with these earthquakes? Was the planet breaking apart? Mehra grabbed the rails to steady herself as she continued to watch out for her colleague. If there had been a quick and obvious way down she would have taken it and tried her best to free Sheppard, but it was a sheer drop of at least fifty feet. She doubted she could land that in any fit state to fight. And even if she tried to find another route down, there were bound to be locked doors blocking her way…this place was full of them. So, what the hell should she do?

As if afraid of the tremors, the Reliquiae now retreated rapidly, Sheppard gathered up under the arms of two of them as they beat a path for one door mere moments before Akalus entered through another. Only now did the Kheprian guards appear to take decisive action, now that Akalus had returned and was barking orders at them in his alien tongue. Mehra couldn't understand a damn word he said, but she recognised a pissed tone of voice when she heard it, and this guy was as pissed as they came.

As everyone departed the room beneath her, Mehra slipped down to the floor, stunned into inertia. Sheppard was gone. And she hadn't done a damn thing to stop those creatures taking him. But what could she have done? She comforted herself with the thought that Sheppard wouldn't have wanted her to risk her life to save him against such a savage enemy, not with him in such poor health, but she wasn't entirely convinced by her own argument. She would never have believed she could sit by while a commanding officer was taken...but then, Sheppard would have argued he wasn't that anymore. And officially he wasn't. Major Lorne – soon to be Colonel Lorne – had officially replaced him three months back now. But commanding officer or not, Sheppard had still been a living, breathing human being...and she'd failed him. As she shrunk back into the darkest corner of the gantry to figure out her next move, Dusty wasn't sure she would ever be able to forgive herself for that…even if he did.

oooOOOooo

Struggling for breath and almost at the point of collapse, Mishta peered through the laser fence surrounding the exercise yard at Phylacos from her hiding place behind a patch of thorny brushwood.

The Reliquiae ship was there and two Kheprian guards stood either side of the entrance to the compound, but aside from that no other signs of life were visible. They hadn't spotted her steady approach, concealed as it had been behind various patches of bush and scrubby undergrowth. The whole time they had remained half-turned toward the doorway itself, as if expecting someone to emerge.

Taking a moment to rest, Mishta swigged back a few mouthfuls of water from her flask to ease the burning thirst that gripped her throat. The nerves in her legs twitched and prickled, firing confused signals along her muscles, but she was stubborn, yet another human trait she'd inherited from her father. She refused to let her legs give up on her now...although a few seconds of respite wouldn't do them any harm.

Once certain they weren't looking her way, Mishta scooted a little closer and squatted down to hide behind the solid lower part of the boundary walls. Shrugging off her pack, she frantically rummaged through it, looking for her bugging device, glad now she hadn't needed to deploy it when seeking information on explosives. She found it and its sister component, the receiver, buried under her previous evening's clothing, which still smelled of sirath vapours and stale alcohol. Unfortunately, she quickly realised the bugging unit itself wasn't working. She switched it on and off a couple of times to reboot its circuits, but it still refused to fire up. She pleaded with it, prayed to her gods and finally swore at the thing as she repeated the reboot process over and over, but to no avail. The unit remained inactive. In a fit of rage, she threw it at the floor, about to stamp on it when the unexpected happened. The power cell kicked in, illuminating a tiny light in the centre of its hard, grey exterior, barely there, but enough to let her know it was operational.

Stifling the urge to shriek with joy, Mishta swept it up and turned again to peer back through the fence just in time to see the entrance doors opening. All her muscles tensed as she saw the first figure emerge into the daylight. It was a Reliquia, sweeping aside one of the Kheprian guards with little effort as she darted for the ship. Behind her, five more of the Reliquiae emerged, one tackling the second guard in a similarly efficient manner, while another two carried what appeared to be an unconscious human male. He looked pale, dirty, and horribly wasted, a pathetic specimen by anyone's measure. Not a bit like her father. Were they stealing the wretched creature? He wouldn't sustain them for long.

Following them came more guards, all firing stunner shots which seemed to have no effect on the females. The Kheprians were usually formidable in battle; she wondered how these few women could have escaped Phylacos with so many Kheprians on hand to restrain them.

It didn't take Mishta long after that to see the blood on the faces and hands of the females and figure out why the Kheprians might have been cautious. They had already fed, and now they were fit to fight and heal in a way no sensible being would challenge. And yet this human they carried with them appeared unharmed. There were no obvious signs of lacerations on his body. Why had they spared him? The Reliquiae were a vicious race; to them, humans were nothing more than a source of nourishment. What made this one different? Unless...

Suddenly, Mishta realised the Reliquiae were boarding their vessel, leaving her little time to plant the bug. She shuffled around the boundary to a point behind the craft where she felt certain no one would see her. Then, standing, she drew her arm back and threw the bug as hard as she could, just as the Reliquiae ship's engines fired up. It soared over the laser fence and found its mark. Thankfully, that sound covered the noise of the magnetic bug attaching itself to the hull of the _Diiro Koora._ Now, all she could do was pray to Yusallai that it stayed attached long enough for them to learn where the Reliquiae were taking their apparently precious cargo.

* * *

 **A/N: Oooo, it's all kicking off as we say over here in good old Blighty. But at least Sheppard's put of prison! As always, thank you for the reviews so far. Please keep them coming. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Mehra hunched in the corner of the balcony, trying to forget what she'd just witnessed so she could think straight. She'd seen some vicious fights in her time, seen a lot of blood spilled, but nothing even close to the orgy of gore and mayhem the Reliquiae had waged on those poor, innocent men.

She peered through the rails again to ensure everyone was gone. They were, including Sheppard. All that remained to prove anything had happened there were the bloodstains on the floor. She took a deep breath and forced herself to re-evaluate. There was nothing she could do for Sheppard now. But Ronon was on the loose – perhaps still in the compound. If she could catch up to him, perhaps the two of them could work together on getting out of here. It certainly looked like the six months of incarceration had done little to dampen his fighting spirit. And one angry Ronon was as good as three trained marines.

Sinking back down, Mehra allowed a wave of both relief and horror to wash over her. Ronon had survived, but the Reliquiae had taken Sheppard. What if they fed on him later? No…if they had wanted to eat him they would have done it there and then. She had to believe that and put the dark thoughts behind her. After all, Geeja had insisted that the Reliquiae needed Sheppard for some reason. Of course, Geeja wasn't exactly top of her list of people to trust…

Suddenly, the door near to her drew back. She clung to the shadows, hoping to remain hidden, but it was no use. Wanless instantly spotted her and made a grab for her, dragging her up into the light. 'Back to your cell,' he screeched, hauling her toward the door, even as she did her very best to resist. She twisted, spinning under his forelimb and sliding out of his grip…only to be snatched up by another pincer and smacked upside the head with the third. It wasn't as hard as it could have been, but it certainly stunned her into inactivity.

It occurred to her then, as he pulled her back out into the corridor and back in the direction they had journeyed through earlier, that he hadn't even asked where Sheppard was. He hadn't expected to find him there. He'd left them on that balcony because he knew the Reliquiae would be able to find him there.

'You planned this, didn't you?' she demanded. 'You got Sheppard out here so those creatures could take him.'

'Silence,' Wanless hissed, his head snapping around in her direction. It seemed like that was something he really didn't want anyone else to hear. Maybe she could use that to his advantage.

'You know, if you don't want anyone knowing about what you did, it might be best if you just _lose_ me,' she suggested.

Her attempt at blackmail immediately fell flat when he countered with, 'Or kill you.'

Seemed like Wanless had mastered all the useful English words he might ever need to use to oppress and terrify his prisoners. And she didn't doubt that was a threat he would follow through on if she pushed too hard.

So, the Kheprians were up to something...something Akalus wasn't privy too? Interesting. There had to be an advantage to be gained somewhere in all this mess.

She tried for more information rather than a direct challenge to his authority. 'What will they do to him? Kill him?'

Wanless didn't reply, only snorting into his mask as if her ignorance was tiresome.

"What about Akalus? What does Hezekiah need for Sheppard? '

The Kheprian stopped instantly, slamming her back against the damp wall so hard her head spun. 'Who told you that?'

But Dusty was on a roll. She had him reacting now. Maybe she could find something out if she just asked the right questions. He might not be willing to answer her, but he might give her clues with his behaviour.

'I thought you were loyal to Akalus...how come you handed Sheppard over to someone else?'

Wanless grasped her by the throat and lifted her bodily off the floor, bringing his masked face in close enough for her to see the reflection of her face turning purple in his visor. 'You not understand. You only human. You are already lost.'

Then he dropped her, looming over her as she staggered then regained her footing while she panted for breath. 'What does that mean?'

Wanless pushed her hard, sending her stumbling on a few steps ahead of him. 'Enough talk. Move.'

She walked on ahead, conscious of his menacing presence at her back the whole time. She'd been looking for answers, but had been left with more questions. They were already lost? What the hell was that supposed to mean? As long as she was breathing there was hope. Nothing was lost yet.

Unless he knew something she didn't...

oooOOOooo

In his current hiding place, Ronon took a moment to compose himself. He was supposed to be tough. He was supposed to be strong. He wasn't supposed to dwell on the deaths of people he didn't even know. He'd seen enough death and carnage in his life to be almost immune to loss, but the sound of that man being ripped apart while he ran for his life would most likely haunt him for a long time to come. He'd saved his own ass and left an innocent to die. But there was no denying that those females would have done the same thing to him if he'd stayed around. Some fights just couldn't be won and you had to accept your losses. Guilt was sure to get you killed. You had to shake it off.

The chaos and noise outside of the room he'd hidden in had died down now, so he assumed the females who had launched the attack had left the compound. With any luck, no one had seen him escape and he would be presumed dead. Eaten by those monsters along with those other hapless prisoners. That might mean he could move about without anyone looking for him and remain unseen...or it might mean those bug guards would be on the watch and extra vigilant in case those things came back to attack again.

He looked down at what he grasped in his hand, something he had been longing to get hold of for months and had finally managed to snatch in the midst of the violent distraction. He turned the key card over in his hand. Such a simple thing, yet it would give him free rein in the compound...as long as he was careful not to get caught. But if he was going out there he wanted to give himself the best chance he had. So, what could he use to arm himself?

The room appeared to be some kind of dormitory, with beds and storage units, none of which contained any weapons he soon realised as he began to rummage through them. Okay, nothing obvious to defend himself with, so what did he have? He walked into an anti-chamber off the main room. Bathroom facilities. He hadn't seen those in what felt like forever. To his left was a mirrored wall, and he figured that was his best bet. He punched and kicked until it began to break, large, thick shards falling to the floor with more noise than he would have liked under the circumstances. He picked one up and examined it. It was sharply angled at the end and had a tapering edge that was as good as any knife. He tore off a strip from the bottom of his shirt and wrapped it around one end of the shard, making it safe to hold. Work finished, he brandished the homemade weapon, making several controlled slashing movements to gauge the best way to move with it, to find its centre of balance. Now he felt much more like his old self and his spirits rose in a way he hadn't experienced for many months.

The sound of a door opening, and an anxious low voice muttering something alien stopped him in his tracks.

Someone had come into the dormitory.

He darted to the wall beside the doorway he'd entered through, pressing himself back against it as he very carefully moved his head into a position in which he could peer around the frame.

It was just one solitary little figure, one of the weird little freaks that spent their time pathing up prisoners like him who pushed the guards beyond the limits of their patience. He hadn't seen any of them in weeks. Apparently, they didn't frequent the mines. That was the realm of the bugs. These guys inhabited the higher levels.

He watched for a few moments as the little figure moved around the room, picking up stray items Ronon had tossed about in his hurried search for arms, then dropping them to the floor again with confused grumbles. He was gradually working his way toward the bathroom. Ronon pulled his head back and watched the floor, waiting for the tell-tale shadow to fall across the threshold that would tell him the alien was on his way in.

And the moment it happened he launched, jabbing the shard of shattered mirror hard into the diminutive figure's throat to prevent him from crying out. All that issued forth was a fluidy gargle before he went limp and Ronon slowly lowered him to the floor.

Stepping over his victim, Ronon proceeded to the door that led out onto the corridor, listening to ascertain if anyone else was approaching. All outside was silent, so he used his key card and swiped the controls, letting the door hiss back as he kept himself concealed. Now, certain he could hear nothing, he dared to poke his head out and check the corridor was clear.

It was.

Okay…what should he do now? Should he make a break for it in the hope of getting back to Atlantis somehow and returning with help, or should he at least return to the mines and collect Teyla, the only team mate he knew for certain was still alive? It didn't take him long to make his choice. Despite the risk of being recaptured, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Teyla languishing in the mines for even a day longer than he had to. He would head downwards, recalling the trip he had made earlier on his way up from the mines and find his way back down there.

They would leave this place together, or not at all.

oooOOOooo

The first thing Sheppard became aware of as he slowly regained consciousness was the sound of running water.

Confused, he strained open his heavy lids to a room so far removed from the one he'd fallen unconscious in, he thought he might actually be dreaming. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and opened them again. Everything was the same. He really wasn't asleep. Unless he'd done that in his sleep, of course.

Above him towered a vaulted glass ceiling, a fantastic domed construction through which he could see the sun streaming down to bathe his body in its light. It felt so soothing and welcome that, for a few moments, he simply closed his eyes again and luxuriated in the sensation of its warm caress. If it _was_ a dream, he would enjoy it for as long as it lasted. It certainly beat the nightmares of the past six months in Phylacos.

He'd just begun to blissfully drift back off into unconsciousness when the memory of the screams of the Reliquiae's victim invaded his head-space, bringing him round with a start. He'd been barely able to stay conscious so he hadn't actually seen anything detailed, but those sounds had been unmistakable – flesh and bone tearing apart amidst the most gut-wrenching shrieks he'd ever heard – and they had penetrated his fugue despite his brain's best attempts to shut him down. He doubted he'd be forgetting them any time soon. The Reliquiae had snatched him away from Mehra as he'd sat dying on that gantry in Phylacos, but he was still alive…or was he? Was this some other level of existence? Had he passed on and he hadn't even realised? Had he…ascended? Surely, he would have remembered that.

Sheppard sat up carefully, testing how his body felt. He tried to get his bearings, allowing his brain to catch up with the movement before attempting to process more of what he was seeing. Shuffling over to the edge of the bed to look over it he found himself lying on a huge bed, raised far off the ground on long, slim, sculpted legs. The sheets felt soft under his hands as he gripped them, the fabric silken to the touch and red as blood. That voice screamed out in his head again, along with that hideous flesh splitting sound and the crack of joints dismembering, and he found himself reflexively gripping those sheets a little tighter. Thank God, he'd been too weak to fully open his eyes.

Across the room in front of him, narrow windows stretched from the top of the high walls surrounding him down to the floor, letting in yet more nurturing light. The lack of any kind of window covering left them free to allow in as much sunshine as nature chose to share. It was an undeniably beautiful morning from what he could see, made all the more beautiful by the comfort of his surroundings. He felt guilty about dirtying up such clean sheets with the filth of Phylacos that still clung to him. But somebody had chosen to put him there so he supposed whoever it was didn't mind the grime.

Now that he really took things in he could see the place was old…very old. The smell of dampness and dust pervaded the room, as if it had been closed up for some time. There was a layer of dust on the floor that had been disturbed by movement, perhaps by whoever had brought him here and readied the bed for him. So, his instincts had been right. Until now, this room had been unused for a while. Perhaps the windows had been previously covered, which would explain why there was still a chill, musty air to the room despite the sunlight. Like him, this might be the first time it had been exposed to the touch of the sun for a very long time.

Two long-legged, high-backed chairs sat either side of an archway to his left, the archway through which, he now realised, he could hear the running water. He wanted to explore and find out where the sound was coming from, but he doubted he could make it across the room without help. Except, now that he really thought about it, he didn't feel as if he was bordering on death any more. In fact, he felt better than he had done for days. He didn't feel well, but he felt…a little better.

Had Geeja been right about the Reliquiae helping him? And if so, what had they done to pull him back from the brink?

A sense of foreboding brought on by that thought had him looking back over his shoulder to dispel the feeling that someone was creeping up on him, but all that loomed there was a huge mirror hanging on the wall above a headboard upholstered in more of that vibrant red fabric the bed was swathed in. He noticed now that the bedframe looked as though it were almost organic, carved in such a way as to make it look as if it were made up of many interwoven tendrils. It reminded him of something…He shuffled toward it across the sheets, reaching out to touch it to see what it was made of. It had a strange texture, and though it had a slightly damp feel it looked brittle and partly desiccated. As he examined it, he caught sight of reflected movement somewhere through the archway.

The water stopped running.

He held his breath and kept watching the mirror, certain he'd seen something move. His heart raced and his head swam; though undeniably healthier than he had been, he still wasn't in a fit enough state to take anyone on right now. Despite that fact, the suspense was driving him nuts. Why didn't they just show themselves already?

A moment later, he got his wish.

Two Reliquiae females emerged from the archway and stood silently at the foot of the bed, watching him. For a few horrified seconds, he kept staring at their reflection, hoping they were nothing more than phantom images in the looking glass. He gave an exaggerated blink, hoping they'd be gone when he opened his eyes. But they were still there, as large as life, and in their case, it was a formidable sight. He found himself wishing all this was a dream after all. Dying in Phylacos suddenly had genuine appeal.

Sheppard gripped the sheets so hard now his knuckles ached. He didn't move – couldn't, in fact. His fear rendered him rigid under their harsh gaze. In full health, he might stand the chance of putting up a good fight against these creatures, maybe even get lucky and win, but not today, not even with the slight improvement in his condition. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

They remained there, silently watching him for what felt like an age, no flicker of movement from them. His heart thumped wildly against his ribcage, but he didn't have the strength to react. Had they brought him here to kill him at their leisure? Had they eaten their fill at Phylacos and he was dessert? How long did they intend to drag out this agony? If he had to die he wanted it over with.

The sound of another door opening interrupted the stalemate. He watched a female with long auburn hair enter and cross to the bed, all reflected in that same mirror. She spoke quietly with the two keeping guard, and they withdrew via the doorway they'd appeared through, leaving them alone.

This new female approached the bedside. Sheppard gripped those sheets even tighter, but dared to turn and face her. 'I trust your room is comfortable?' she asked in perfect English.

'I…I guess,' was all he could think of to say.

She reached out and took hold of his left hand. He did his best not to overreact as she prised his fingers free from the bedding, her touch cold and clammy against his skin. 'You're crumpling the sheets. You'll spoil the aesthetics.' He automatically let go with his right hand so she had no need to touch him again. She smiled, obviously aware of why he had done it. 'How are you feeling now, Human?'

He didn't know how to answer her question, straight forward as it initially seemed. Was she asking whether he felt better after passing out earlier, or was she referring to his obvious fear of the situation he found himself in? 'I've been better,' he eventually said. He figured that answer covered both options adequately.

'Your health has been partially restored while my sisters discuss how much more we should do to help you.'

He nodded, understanding now why he felt just a little stronger. 'Don't take this the wrong way...but why would you want to do that?' he asked, curiosity helping him to find his voice.

'You will see. There is enough time for you to get clean before their discussions reach a conclusion, at which time you will be informed of your importance to our future. Please, come this way.' She made a sweeping gesture toward the door the others had used, obviously expecting him to head through it.

Though he'd dreamed of a hot shower almost from day one at Phylacos, the urge suddenly left him. Washing with an audience...that wasn't his thing. And his present company really made the whole thing a hell of a lot less appealing.

'Come. You must be eager to cleanse the taint of Phylacos from your body,' the female encouraged, beckoning him to move.

It was only then that Sheppard realised he could feel a slight sensation of pressure inside his right ear. On reaching up to touch it, he found something wedged tight and deep inside it.

'Do not remove that!' the female warned, the suddenness of her interjection making him start. 'We fitted you with a translator to make our interactions simpler. It has electrodes that feed translations directly into your brain. You could do yourself irreparable damage if you remove it without it being deactivated first.'

'So, you're not speaking English?'

She gave a vague and almost patronisingly patient smile. 'No. It is not a language native to our galaxy. Now, please, come this way.'

With some difficulty, he slid to the end of the bed and tried out his legs, finding them still unwilling to support his weight despite his malaise having lifted somewhat. The female caught his arm and held him up with ease using only one hand. 'Here, I will assist you.'

He wanted to refuse, but got the impression the female's words were more of a statement than an offer. She walked him through the arched doorway and immediately a number of aromas fought to invade his olfactory system simultaneously; soaps, perfumes and warm flesh all intertwined with clouds of stifling steam to literally take his breath away. Ahead of him, a sunken bath the size of an average swimming pool took up almost all of the floor space in the room beyond it. The two Reliquiae females who had earlier withdrawn from his bedroom stood in it, stripped down to what amounted to alien swimwear, which revealed large areas of pale, almost translucent skin on their aging bodies. He faltered as he saw them in there, knowing immediately that they were waiting for him to join them. This was getting way too weird. He was supposed to submit to some kind of freaky grooming session from these man-eating aliens? He couldn't shake the feeling they were cleaning him up because he was just too filthy to eat the way he was. Maybe he'd be better off hanging onto the grime...

'Phylacos mistreats its prisoners terribly,' the female said, guiding him to the edge of the pool. 'How long has it been since you last bathed?'

Sheppard was too busy imagining how painful being eaten alive would be to answer. But the pool looked warm and inviting, even if there were two Reliquiae lurking in it. His whole body ached from bruises and illness despite the help they'd given him, and the thought of allowing the warm water to lull those pains away for even a few moments swiftly overtook his fear. He could do this...might as well make the most of their hospitality before he breathed his last.

'I assume it has been some time,' she said, answering the question for him.

'Uh, yeah,' he said as he began to lift off his t-shirt, struggling to get it over his head, but managing with a grunt of determination. As he dropped it at his feet he felt her fingers touch the scars on his shoulders, tracing across his back from one to the other. He froze, the sensation making his skin crawl.

'You resisted your captors, I see,' she said, walking around in front of him and stroking her long, bony fingers across the scars that showed where the metal pins had passed straight through him. 'Their methods are so…barbaric.'

'And you're not?' he heard himself say, without even consciously forming the question.

She stopped her walk and fixed him with a cold, hard stare. 'I suppose it would seem that way to you, but we kill to feed, not for finances.'

'And you can't humanely kill humans before eating them?' he asked, amazed that he was still speaking so directly to her. 'At least then they wouldn't suffer.'

'You were a part of the genetic programme at Phylacos, yes?' she asked, changing the subject.

He stared blankly at her, then nodded.

'You have seen first-hand what suffering is meted out there. The punishments, the experiments, the incomplete humans artificially brought forth into this world so prematurely, the augmented developments and births, the forced gathering of genetic matter - I can see from your scars that you understand that only too well. Are you telling me that what we do to those we feed upon is any worse than the horrors you have endured and witnessed there?'

She seemed in complete earnest of the argument she made. And perhaps she was right. He'd suffered six months of imprisonment and abuse of various kinds, which had left him at the point where he had prayed his illness would take him. Was five minutes of agony in any way comparable? 'I suppose not,' he conceded. Then he came right out and asked, 'Are you gonna eat me?'

That made the Reliquiae female smile, an almost friendly expression if the skin around her mouth hadn't still born the staining from her earlier meal. 'What is your name, Human?'

'Lieu...' He stopped himself. 'John Sheppard.'

In that instant, the expression on the Relinquish face changed. She registered first shock, then a vague semblance of anger, yet she forced her face back into a tight smile all the same.

'John Sheppard, you clearly have no concept of your importance in this universe. There are any number of beings who wish to ensure you continue to live...but perhaps more who would wish you dead. We need you alive, John Sheppard. We will not kill you…' The strength of her stare now intensified and burned right into him. '…yet.'

That final word swiftly kicked his sense of hope into touch. He wasn't on the menu today, but he was still there as a potential future snack should his importance diminish. And he got that…to them he was like a side of ribs, or a Big Mac. He was food, plain and simple. But if he was food, what other important role did he have for them that delayed his demise like he was a Christmas special rather than the all-day breakfast?

The female took hold of the belt of his trousers and began to unfasten it. He pulled back. 'I don't need your help,' he assured her.

'You are weak.'

'I'll manage,' he insisted, jutting his jaw and glaring until she backed off.

He bent down to untie his boots and almost face-planted. The female caught him and supported him until he steadied again.

'Allow me,' she said, squatting her long body down to release his bootlaces from the eyelets, and helping him to slip off both the boots and his threadbare socks he wore beneath them.

Sheppard clenched his jaw and inwardly cursed himself for not being able to follow through on his certainty he didn't need her assistance. He managed the belt of his trousers himself, and they fell to the floor as she helped him to step out of them. He stopped at his boxers. No way was he parting company with those.

'Do you need help?' the female asked, as if him stripping naked in front of the three of them was the most natural thing in the world

'No...I'm done.'

Thankfully, his assurance met with complete indifference. It seemed the undertone he'd feared was attached to her actions was only in his mind after all. 'As you wish. You may remove them once you are in the water if you prefer.'

 _Hell no!_ he thought, but he figured he'd cross that particular bridge when he came to it.

She supported him to the water's edge, her pale, cold, wizened fingers digging into his thin and equally pale arm. He hardly recognised his body as he looked down at himself here in the brilliant daylight of this elegant room. He'd wasted away to almost half the man he'd been six months ago due to inedible rations and poor health. He'd known he was fading, but he'd had no idea how drastically the sickness had taken its toll on his outward appearance. The Reliquiae woman continued to support him while he descended the steps down into the pool, the warm water enveloping him and instantly relaxing his tense body as it cradled him in its embrace. He could have happily died at that moment, taking that wonderful sensation with him to his grave…or probably their stomachs.

One of the Reliquiae already in the water took hold of him and pulled him against her, offering herself as a pillar against which he could lean his weary body. The other held a pitcher, which she filled with the warm, scented water and poured over his head, sending warm rivulets cascading over his hair and shoulders.

The warm water opened up some of his recent wounds, including the needle-mark on his throat from Wanless' assault. The effect of his blood on his two companions was instant. The grip of the one holding him tightened, her fingers and sharp nails digging into his flesh. The other pressed in against him bringing her face close to his neck -

'Restraint, sisters,' the other ordered from her place beside the pool.

The grip loosened and they gave him more space, but he could feel the anticipatory trembling of the Reliquiae supporting him quaking through his back. Once again, the mood shifted from friendly to threatening, and in his current state he felt totally vulnerable. He'd known that wonderful sense of relaxation couldn't last.

'We took the liberty of scanning your measurements while you were resting,' Oolanae said, picking his disgustingly stained and noisome clothing up and throwing it onto the open fire that heated the room from a vast stone fireplace. 'We have replicated your human clothes as new, assuming you will fill them adequately once again when you have gained weight. We thought you would feel more comfortable dressed that way than in anything we could offer you.'

She lifted up a perfect replica of his previously tattered BDU shirt, minus the dirt and rips. Just as it had looked all those months ago when they'd been returning home from M4L 925.

'Thanks,' he said quietly, saddened by the thought.

His assistant poured liquid soap onto his hair and rubbed it into a lather, bringing her closer to him again. Each breath she took shuddered in and out of her as if she was at the brink of ecstasy…ecstasy brought on by the smell of his blood. _Or maybe it's just my magnetic personality,_ some little voice quipped in the back of his mind.

But this wasn't a joke, this was real and they were pressing in on him again.

'Ladies,' Oolanae chastised once more. 'Show some decorum. Do you wish the poor man to think we are totally lacking in self-control?'

The fact she even had to say those words told him that self-control might be an issue for these _ladies_. Hopefully Oolanae could keep her head or he was a goner for sure.

His personal groomer waded to the side of the pool where an arrangement of hygiene related items lay. When she approached him again, she carried a blade. He automatically tried to back off, getting nowhere against his Reliquiae support.

'Do not be frightened, John Sheppard,' the auburn-haired female said, seeing his reaction. 'She means to shave you and cut your hair, nothing more.'

The female behind him tipped his head back, as the other dragged the sharp blade up the beard growth on his throat. He tried desperately not to flinch, knowing the slightest knick could send those two into a frenzy. Thankfully, his Reliquiae groomer was careful even though this was not something she was used to doing; the concentration etched onto her face told him as much. His jaw-line proved particularly tricky for her, and the blade sliced the top few layers of his skin. As he knew he would, he began to stream with blood, a curse of his illness. His helper paused, her eyes greedily flashing her desire for the taste of him. The one holding him leaned around to look, her breath warm on his ear. It set his follicles on end. He felt sure she was about to rip his throat out with her teeth.

'Restraint,' the voice commanded, and once again they composed themselves.

After several painstakingly long minutes, his chin was clear of growth for the first time in six months. Next, his groomer set about cutting his hair, a much safer job and one he felt a little more certain he might survive.

Once they had made him presentable, the female at the poolside threw in a robe with which he could cover himself, and they helped him from the pool. He stood there dripping wet and probably looking even more sorry than he felt as they guided him to a small anti-chamber along with his new clothes, where jets of warm air gently dried his skin as he sat shaking and wondering what they had in mind for him next.

When he no longer felt damp, he pulled on his replica clothes, having to stop for several minutes between most items to just regain his breath. He had to wonder why he was even bothering to get dressed. He was literally exhausted from just the bathing process. If he sat there long enough, he could just die and spare himself the effort. Despite that feeling he persevered. With all his clothes finally in place, he sat back and weighed up his situation. No matter which way he looked at it, he was well and truly screwed. He had the feeling whatever these females needed him for wasn't good, but he was too damn sick to try to make a getaway.

He was trapped, just as much a prisoner here as he had been in Phylacos, no matter how pretty of a bow they tried to wrap it up in.

'John Sheppard. Are you dressed?' the female called from outside the door of the tiny dressing chamber.

He hesitated to answer, but realised he was only delaying the inevitable, and risking angering them unnecessarily. 'Yeah.'

'Then, please join us.'

He figured there was no point in refusing. But as he stood his legs once again let him down. Hearing him fall, the female opened the door and lifted him up, walking him back to the bed. He sat on the end of it, looking up at the three of them, who were now also fully dressed. He felt pathetic and small…and that really wasn't a feeling he enjoyed.

The lead female stroked his cheek almost affectionately with the back of her fingers, though there was no mistaking the flash of menace when her eyes met his and she spoke. 'That's much better. You are far more visually pleasing when the filthy taint of Phylacos is removed from you, John Sheppard. But you are still very weak. I will ask that the meeting reach its conclusion quickly, or I fear it will be too late for you. Now, rest and eat your fill.'

It was only at her gesture that he noticed a small table now sitting beside the bed, laden with food. It bore breads, cooked meats, and some sort of vegetables and fruit he'd never seen before all beautifully arranged on various platters. It all looked delicious and smelled twice as good, but he knew he wouldn't be able eat it. He'd had little appetite of late, and here, held captive by a savage, flesh-eating race, he was damn sure eating was the least of his worries.

'Eat your fill and we will return shortly,' the female told him with the vaguest of smiles. There was no real warmth to it, and it sent a shudder right through him.

The three Reliquiae left him then, the sound of a door lock clicking into place behind them. He would have expected nothing less. He'd not heard one single door close without it locking in the past six months. There was no mistaking the fact he was still a prisoner, even amidst all this luxury. The facilities might be better, but his situation had not improved.

He reached over and picked up a piece of bread to sniff at it. It wasn't like bread back home, but it was close enough to be palatable. Here, they preferred it heavier and tougher to chew, which made it all the less appetising to him in his current feeble state. He nibbled at the crust, getting little more than a taste of it before nausea struck. Dropping the bread back down on the table top, he instead took in the view out of those tall windows. Close by was an arid wasteland, but in the distance lay lush green forest, and he fancied he could just make out a mountain range shrouded in mist in the distance. It was beautiful, and he tried to enjoy it, though it was hard when he feared what his future now held for him.

From the vantage point the windows gave him, he worked out that the building he now found himself in stood a considerable distance above ground level, most likely on some sort of hill or mountainside itself. If he'd had the strength, he would have crossed to the windows to see what the drop was like, but he knew he wouldn't make it that far, less still make the climb down entailed in any kind of escape attempt.

So instead he gave into his fatigue and lay back on those soft, blood red sheets. He stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling, hoping beyond hope he would die before the Reliquiae meeting ended, though he felt like he was just a little too alive for that to happen. They'd made sure of that.

Even so, he got the feeling that was currently his best option.

* * *

 **A/N: Eek! I think this could be considered one of those 'out of the frying pan, into the fire' situations for Sheppard. Rather him than me! Thanks to everyone still following the story. There should be more on Thursday when I've had time to do a bit more editing. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Having run the full distance back to the rebel camp from Phylacos, Mishta dropped to her knees just inside the treeline encompassing her comrades' hiding place, clutching her chest for fear it might burst from exertion. She was fit and she was fast, but she'd never pushed herself so hard before. She'd never needed to until now. But today she suspected their crusade had reached a pivotal point and her speed might be of the essence.

Steadying her breathing, she slugged back a couple of mouthfuls and made herself presentable, hurriedly untying then retying the high pony tail on the crown on her head, taking in all the unruly strands that had worked their way free. If she planned to address the Founders with the amazing news she'd discovered, it wouldn't do to appear panicked and dishevelled. She wanted to look calm and in control, the way Lansha no doubt would when he gave them his findings about the explosives. But what Mishta had overheard on the Reliquiae vessel would eclipse any good news Lansha bore. It would eclipse everything that had gone before. For once, she would be the hero.

She walked calmly to the centre of camp. There, she spotted Goronak roasting some lirra lizard meat on a stick for a snack before their main evening meal.

'Goronak,' she said softly, 'May I speak with you?'

He looked up at her, still holding his meal in the flames. She saw relief in the old man's eyes. 'Mishta. Child…where have you been? Your brother returned for our midday meal, and he thought you should be back, too. We were worried for your safety.'

'I was following my instincts,' she replied enigmatically.

His expression said all she needed to see. Everyone in the camp knew about Mishta's knack for causing trouble, and her instincts usually led her straight into it. She supposed she didn't blame him for doubting her.

'Where to?' he asked, his gaze roving over her dusty clothes and sunburned shoulders. It had to be obvious she'd been out at the height of their primary sun's ascent. They all sought shade at that time in this season, as burning was inevitable.

'I saw a Reliquiae craft.'

A look of panic instantly crossed Goronak's face. 'The Reliquiae? They're in the area? I hope they didn't see you!'

She shook her head, still working to steady her breathing. 'No…They had too much on their minds to notice someone as insignificant as me.'

His body relaxed at that assertion. 'I'm glad to hear that. Where exactly did you see them?'

'At Phylacos.'

His eyes widened, surprise slackening his wizened old features. 'You've been to Phylacos?'

She nodded again. 'Well, to the perimeter. I followed their craft and it lead me there.'

Mishta saw doubt cloud his expression again, and he returned his attention to his now slightly over-cooked snack, snatching it away from the lick of the flames. 'I thought the Reliquiae had been banished from Akalus' complex years ago.'

'There was good reason for them to travel there, Goronak. I beg you to gather everyone together now and not wait until the sun sets. What I have to tell you cannot wait.'

Goronak tried to pull a little meat free from the skewered carcass, hissing as he burned his fingertips. He shook his head as he sucked hot meat juices from them, then replied, 'It would be better to wait until after we've eaten. You'll find our comrades listen far better on a full stomach.'

'This is urgent, Goronak,' she insisted, her voice losing a little of its imposed calm as she sensed her opportunity to shine slipping away. 'The news I have is more important than food or drink, or day or night, or -'

With an exaggerated sigh, he distractedly returned his meat to the flames to cook a little longer. 'All right, Mishta. I understand your news is of great significance,' he told her, patting the air with his free hand to assuage her. 'So, tell me, what was so important about this trip to Phylacos?'

'The Reliquiae didn't just turn up today, they were summoned there by Akalus himself.'

Now, she had his undivided attention. 'Summoned? How do you know that?'

'I heard it, straight from their own mouths…well, via a bugging device.'

Goronak nodded. 'I see. But summoned for what purpose?'

'To save the life of the prophesied one.'

The Founder's face froze. As he allowed her words to sink in, the stick holding his lirra meat burned through, dropping his appetizer into the fire's core. He didn't even notice.

'Sound the gathering drum,' he shouted across the clearing, the young male sitting closest to it scrabbling to his feet to carry out the order.

The hide drum reverberated with every strike, its deep, mellow tone clear enough for all in the camp to hear. Within moments, every member of the rebellion had gathered around the fire, listening intently to the recording Mishta had made of the conversation aboard the _Diiro Koora._

The Reliquiae had taken a human on board their vessel, referring to him as an Ancient One. In Birajan scriptures, the prophesied was born of an ancient race from the city of Atlantis - a race that held the key to returning the Reliquiae to their former health and status in the Pegasus Galaxy.

They discussed the fact the _Ancient One_ was close to death, and they would need to administer the enzyme immediately to save him…though only enough to keep him alive until they had tested his worth. They had flown the craft to their mountain fortress at Agrastan, far north of Phylacos, where his position could be defended from anyone who might find out his worth. They had even communicated with other Reliquiae clans living further afield to ensure they would gather at Agrastan to discuss how they should proceed with their plans for the human. Never in Mishta's lifetime had so many Reliquiae been gathered so close to their home. The thought struck terror deep in her heart. No one would be safe if the Reliquiae rose again.

As Mishta's gaze drifted around their solemn faces, her eyes finally met her brother's. Even though the news she brought to the group was both of phenomenal importance and terrifying, he still managed to look angry with her. Obviously, her discovery had left his looking comparatively meagre. Was this jealousy? Was he finally getting a taste of how she had felt in all the years she had constantly walked in his shadow?

'Friends,' Goronak said, addressing the group, 'you've heard these words straight from the mouths of the Reliquiae. Akalus has found the one the scriptures tell us of, the human who carries in the balance not only our fate, but the potential to restore the Reliquiae to their former superiority. And now, he is in their hands. It is only a matter of time before the Reliquiae increase in strength and ferocity and they drive us from our homes with their harvesting raids, just as our ancestors were driven out before us. They have to be stopped before this can happen.'

The group remained hushed. It was clear from their expressions that they could hardly comprehend what they were hearing. In a short moment of time, they had learned that the two worst prophecies in their scriptures were coming true. What could anyone say to offer them solace?

'We have no choice now,' Goronak continued. 'We're forced to act, whether we're ready to or not. We need to remove the human from the Reliquiae fortress, and bring down Phylacos. We've made the mistake of becoming complacent. We cannot afford to be complacent any longer.'

'I would like to make the trip to Agrastan to kill the human,' Mishta said, breaking the silence that had once again enveloped them.

'No,' she heard Lansha's voice call out.

'Why not?' she demanded, turning to face him. 'You don't think I'm capable, I suppose?'

Lansha pushed through from the back of the group, making his way to the central fire. 'If we kill him, Akalus will send the Kheprians to seek another. We might never have another opportunity like this. We know exactly where The Ancient One is. We should take him from the Reliquiae while they are still weakened and bring him here. If he remains alive, Akalus will concentrate his efforts on trying to retrieve him and not seeking another.'

'As will the Reliquiae…and weak or not, they can still easily tear us apart,' Mishta was quick to point out, seeing the obvious flaw in his plan.

'The Reliquiae _are_ weak, Mishta,' Lansha pointed out, his vehemence there for all to hear. 'If we can elude them for long enough they will be forced back into hibernation to preserve what is left of their lives. We take the human, and we gain control. He is leverage. His presence will force them to act with caution where normally they would take none.'

'You're suggesting we threaten to kill him if either of them come after us…then they may as well seek out another,' Mishta scoffed.

'But this one is already here, and our enemies are arrogant in the certainty that they can win,' Lansha reminded her. 'So, while Akalus is distracted by plans of retrieving him, and the Reliquiae return to their slumbers, we will strike at Phylacos.'

'You make a valid point, Lansha,' Goronak nodded. 'If we hold the human here and let Akalus know he is still alive he will spend his time trying to reclaim him. His guard will be down. We will be in command for once.'

Mishta rolled her eyes, having little patience for such mind-games, but realising that the decision had already been made. 'Then, I will travel to Agrastan to _steal_ the human,' she offered, rewording her suggestion.

Lansha shook his head at her. 'You're too tired,' he said. 'You've covered a great distance on foot today. You need to rest. You've done enough for one day.'

She didn't believe his reasoning, suspecting he really wished to prevent her from gaining any more glory. 'I couldn't rest now if I wanted to,' she growled. 'We face our greatest threat ever, and you think I should retire to my bed? I could not be that selfish.'

'I think there are others who will prove more able, that's all.'

Mishta squared up to him, her anger now reaching boiling point. 'That's not all, and you know it,' she charged.

'Please!' Goronak shouted over them. 'We don't have time for one of your arguments.'

'If we wish to keep him alive, I need to go because I can communicate with the human,' she said. 'I'm fluent in my father's tongue. I can talk to him, and convince him to leave with us.'

'As could I,' Lansha pointed out. 'Perhaps it would be better if _I_ made the journey to Agrastan.'

And there it was. She'd known Lansha meant to steal her thunder. 'You're in the middle of negotiations to secure the explosives we require, aren't you?' she reminded him. 'I know you found the information we were looking for last night.'

'Is this true?' some of those around him asked.

Lansha nodded, dropping his violet gaze to the ground and looking sheepish. 'It is. Goronak and I planned to update you all at sunset, as originally suggested, but it seems matters have rather overtaken us.'

'Mishta is right. We need you to follow up on the purchase of explosives. Mishta will have to go to Agrastan herself,' Goronak said.

'I'll make the journey with her,' Juroah offered. 'It's not a trip anyone should make alone.'

'No, Juroah,' she said more gently. She knew his suggestion grew out of concern for her, not from any yearning to outshine her, but it was too dangerous for him to go to Agrastan. 'As a female, I don't run as high a risk of a painful death to provide food for the Reliquiae. If you come with me, you put yourself in terrible danger…and the scent of male blood will draw them to us.'

'I understand the challenge I face,' he said with a patient, fatherly look. 'But as you said, we cannot put selfish needs before duty. Besides,' he said with a casual shrug, 'if you run into trouble I can cause the perfect distraction.'

'I'd prefer it if you didn't,' she grumbled, angry that he would be so flippant about his life.

'Then, it's agreed,' Goronak said. 'Juroah and Mishta will travel to Agrastan to attempt to retrieve the human, and Lansha will lead negotiations for the explosives to destroy Phylacos. We must prepare.'

As the group disbanded, Juroah began to ask others to help him gather weaponry and supplies for the journey he and Mishta were about to make. He had many volunteers offering their assistance, all wanting to play their part in whatever small way they could.

Mishta left him to it and headed toward her tent to gather her own kit, but Lansha caught her by the arm and pulled her aside from the others. 'What was last night about, Mishta?' he demanded, shaking her as he spoke. 'Do you realise how dangerous your actions were?'

She snatched her arm free and rubbed at the mark his grip had left. 'I knew what I was doing. I didn't ask for your help.'

Lansha's eye was puffy and bruised from the punch he'd taken while defending her honour. She felt a pang of guilt as she looked at him, not that she allowed him to see it.

'You could have been seriously hurt, don't you see that?'

'I knew what I was doing.'

'Did you?' His glare was so intense she felt compelled to back down. Her brother remained one of the few who could make her do that, because she knew he was her equal when it came to lost tempers.

'Perhaps I _had_ indulged in a little too much to drink,' she admitted quietly.

' _Perhaps!_ I think there's no doubting it!'

She dropped her head still further. 'All right. I was drunk.'

'And do you think that Japhalan would have considered whether or not you were inebriated once you were alone with him?'

She kicked at a tree root sticking up a little in front of her feet. 'No.'

'Have you taken your medicines recently?'

Now, her eyes flashed up to meet his once again. 'What are you insinuating?'

'I insinuate nothing, Mishta. I know you only act this rashly when you haven't taken them.'

'It's my decision whether I take them or not.'

'Not when your behaviour affects those around you. You have a responsibility to take care of yourself, Mishta. Your behaviour last night could have jeopardised my talks with the Entuurians and I might never have sourced the explosives.'

She planted her hands on her hips and glared. 'Is that really what bothers you, Lansha, or is it the fact that I found out something even more important?'

Mishta saw the rage burning behind his eyes, but thankfully, he _had_ taken his medicines, so kept his ire in check. Unexpectedly, his expression softened at her challenge. 'I'm not jealous of your achievement, Mishta. I'm eternally thankful that you were able to bug that Reliquiae ship, or we might never have known about the human and his change in location. You have given us what is potentially a tremendous advantage in the upcoming battle. But the fact you took on such a dangerous task without being fully medicated frightens me. Anything could have happened to you.'

'But it didn't.'

'More due to luck than skill, I think,' he growled. 'And now you wish to go to Agrastan to remove the human from Reliquiae clutches - you're being ridiculous!'

'It's not ridiculous. Juroah has trained me to be a warrior for over a year now. I'm fit, I'm strong, and I'm skilled. I'm also a female, so I'm harder to track and they would get little benefit from my blood. That makes me the perfect candidate for this mission.'

'You're not balanced. If I told Goronak that you haven't been taking your medicines -'

She grabbed his shirtfront. 'You wouldn't dare!'

He prised her fingers from his clothing. 'Do not try my patience, Mishta, or I might.'

She let him go and calmed herself once again.

Lansha pulled a vial of liquid from his pocket and handed it to her. 'Here. Take this now,' he ordered.

Mishta looked at it, and then at Lansha, considering another attempt at protest, but she knew it would be futile. She unscrewed the top, put it to her lips, and threw back the contents. It left a bitter trail all the way down to her stomach.

'I'll give another vial to Juroah and instruct him to ensure you take it during the journey to Agrastan. With two doses inside you, your mind will feel more balanced for the job ahead. And don't think you can persuade Juroah otherwise; he knows as well as I do that you perform better when you take it.'

'You're worse than having a father,' she hissed, throwing the empty vial onto the floor and crushing it under her boot. 'All it does is dull my senses and make me weak. If I die out there, it will be because your stupid medicine slowed my reactions.'

'No, if you die out there, it will be because your head was racing away with you because you didn't take enough.' She pushed him aside, refusing to engage in his one-upmanship any longer. As she stormed toward her tent, he called after her, 'I would prefer it if you didn't die at all.'

Mishta grunted something unrepeatable in return, and disappeared into her shelter to collect what she needed.

oooOOOooo

Hakkar hesitated a while at Akalus' door before alerting his "master" to his presence. He could feel the heaviness in the air, knew it was Akalus' fury affecting their surroundings, and wondered if he was about to meet his end. He'd already thought out his excuses for any questions Akalus might have, and they were sound, but that didn't mean the man would be reasonable. An angry Akalus was an unpredictable Akalus, and that was always dangerous.

But Hakkar had been summoned. He had no choice but to obey.

He activated the chime to announce his presence.

The door slid back, but Akalus did not move, remaining still as a statue behind his desk. Hakkar walked forward, keeping his head bowed. 'You wished to see me. Master?'

A period of silence followed, accompanied by a low-level trembling through the floor. Then Akalus finally spoke. 'How did this happen?'

'We tried to stop them, but they had just fed and were too strong,' Hakkar explained, hoping to appeal to some previously undiscovered empathy the man might harbour.

'I'm not talking about the Reliquiae escaping!' Akalus squawked, thumping his gauntleted fists down onto the table top. 'How did they get the prisoner? I asked you to take him to the infirmary.'

This was the question Hakkar had prepared for and so was unshaken as he replied, 'I was on my way when I heard a commotion in the lobby. I decided to leave him on the gantry while I tried to assist in containing the Reliquiae. I thought he would be secure there. I had no idea they would find him there.

'That human was important to me,' Akalus railed, rising from his seat as he slammed his hands down this time. I gave you the job of escorting him because I thought you were the most capable of your kind. Was I wrong?'

That wasn't a question Hakkar had anticipated and he wasn't sure just how he should answer it. Akalus couldn't trust him, but not for the reason he was thinking. 'I'm sorry, Master. If I had thought for even a second that they –'

'I don't need you to think, I need you to follow orders.'

The room shook harder, Akalus' disapproval rising. Hakkar remained still. He needed to survive this encounter if he hoped to help his men get free of Akalus. He had to try to pull this back. 'I believed you were in danger, Master. Your protection seemed like a priority at that time. I knew the human would not be able to move from where I had left him. I made a mistake…I apologise.'

The shaking in the floor began to very slowly subside. Akalus was forgiving him. The man sank back into his seat. 'Fortunately for you, the Reliquiae need him alive. We will retrieve him once his is well again.'

'Retrieve him? Is the human important to you, too, Master,' Hakkar enquired innocently, knowing he shouldn't know the answer to that. 'What makes this human so valuable to you all?'

'You don't need to concern yourself with such trivialities. Just be ready should I need you to assist with the retrieval.'

'Of course, Master,' Hakkar said dipping his head, turning for the door.

'And Hakkar,' Akalus announced, just as Hakkar was about to leave. 'The Birajans found one of their fellow scientists dead in their dormitory. It's not the first time their squabbles have turned violent, but they assure me none of them are to blame. Have your men be extra vigilant. We may have an intruder…perhaps someone who gained access during the troubles with the Reliquiae.

'I will ensure they are informed,' Hakkar agreed, taking his leave.

Outside Akalus' chamber, with the door now closed between them, Hakkar took a deep breath of the precious gases keeping him alive. Not many things in this galaxy frightened him. The Reliquiae were one, and Akalus was the other. There was an undefinable strength to the man that seemed to exceed anything the laws of physics could explain. He had no doubt the man could kill him with little effort, and had spent the past five months in fear for his life and the lives of his men almost every day. But he felt the opportunity to gain their freedom was nearing. He just needed to keep his head and hopefully things between Akalus and the Reliquiae would escalate in a way that would weaken the man, perhaps bringing an end to this place.

And if Phylacos fell, his people might be freed at last.

oooOOOooo

Shortly before sunset, a small, state-of-the-art two-person transport vessel landed in the exercise yard at Phylacos. Two males disembarked, the smaller of them rapping hard on the doors to gain someone's attention. A Kheprian guard opened them up and, recognising the two visitors, granted them entrance.

They followed him down shady corridors until they reached their destination - Master Akalus' office.

Another knock on the door and his voice came back, telling them to enter. He turned to watch as the bloated figure, with his tiny, weasel-like assistant, entered.

Prince Valkalar was somewhat overdressed for the occasion, but that was his habit. He liked to take every opportunity to remind people of his wealth and standing in his society. His gold neck chain hung heavy and long about his short neck, clattering against his golden belt buckle as he walked into the room, his hand outstretched toward their host.

Akalus made a point of remaining behind his desk, not walking to meet him, but took his hand and bent forward to touch his helmeted forehead to it as was expected when meeting a prince of the Rammarant tribe.

The Rammarant tribe were Birajans, as were the majority of inhabitants of this planet. They had broken away from the main population some centuries ago, forming their own tribe that inhabited the southernmost regions of the most habitable landmass, an area colder and more verdant than here where Phylacos sat. To compensate for the cooler climate, the tribe were generally heavier set than their relatives in the warmer climes. They tended to eat a lot during the cool summer months and then rest quietly in their homes during the very coldest winter months living on their fat reserves and plenty of sleep. As it was currently the summer season, Valkalar was looking particularly rotund. Even his relatively small companion carried a considerable paunch sitting atop his belt.

'I have come to make a purchase,' he announced, not bothering to woo Akalus with any facile niceties.

'Of course you have,' their host's mechanical voice replied, matter of fact.

'But this time,' Valkalar said, holding up a commanding hand to stop him, 'I have a proposition for you.'

'Do you, indeed?' Akalus asked, the slight tilt of his helmet suggesting he might actually be mildly amused by that thought.

Valkalar's tongue flickered out as his obvious excitement at what he was about to suggest rose. 'I have here,' he said, holding up an exquisitely hand-crafted bag, 'the sum we agreed in the past for one human. But here,' he pointed to a much larger and more elaborately decorated bag carried by Tamrak, his attendant, 'I have twenty times that amount, because this time I want to purchase a specific human.'

Akalus paused, letting his offer hang in the air for a while as if he was giving it some serious thought. 'Which human?' he eventually asked.

'As you know, I am always looking for interesting experimentation materials,' the prince said, rubbing his hands together. 'And it has come to my attention that you possess a human woman with traces of Wraith DNA in its pure, original form.'

He watched Akalus' armoured gloves clench on his table-top. 'You did not just chance by this information,' his low voice growled. 'I have only logged this on my private database of prisoner details…a database I now have to presume you have had the audacity to infiltrate.'

'Only with the intention of making better trade…for both of us,' Valkalar trilled, taking out a lace trimmed handkerchief to dab at his brow. He hadn't wanted to show any nerves, but moisture leaked from between his head platelets, giving away that his grand talk was nothing more than bluff.

'Odd that you are interested in that particular human,' Akalus said, standing and walking around the desk between them to come to stand over him. 'Rumour has it that the Valkalar tribe has ideas above their station…that they plan to build an unstoppable army to give them ultimate power on Gragoffa.'

All he could see was his own panicked expression reflected back at him from Akalus' visor, and Valkalar felt his bravado melt away before him. He'd met Akalus on two previous occasions, but this time he seemed different, stronger somehow, and far more menacing. The ferocity of his angry proximity left the prince feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

'Nonsense, nonsense. I only wish the genetic material to improve my own health and longevity,' he chuckled.

Akalus growled in a most unnerving way that made him spew more words forth before he could consider what he was saying.

'I hear talk that you plan to end the universe, a sure sign that not everything we hear is true,' he fired back at his host, giving another nervous, almost maniacal, laugh.

Akalus didn't flinch or waiver, unimpressed as he apparently was with the prince's attempt at levity. 'But I know what I hear to be true,' he said in reply. 'You experiment with genetics and interfere with the natural order of things. I cannot condone it.'

Valkalar almost choked out a laugh at the hypocrisy of his words. Almost. Instead, he drew in a sharp breath, tucking his thumbs into his thick belt while trying to look relaxed. 'Master Akalus, I do not wish to be disrespectful, but I _am_ a Prince of the Rammarant tribe; I neither need nor desire your approval to do anything – especially considering the nature of the work I know you carry out in the bowels of this facility.'

Even without being able to see his face, Valkalar knew Akalus was enraged by his comment. The air surrounding them seemed suddenly hot and oppressive. His head grew light, and an uncomfortable nausea twinged in his stomach.

Akalus remained rigid in his seat. 'When you discard my comments so trivially, it _is_ disrespectful, Valkalar,' he growled. 'What you do and what you plan to do compounds all that is wrong with this universe and I cannot allow you to continue.'

'Are you threatening me, Master Akalus?' the prince asked, his shaky voice almost sticking in his throat.

'Take it as you will,' he said, 'but be sure to heed my words.'

Valkalar made a show of straightening his already pristine clothing with a sharp tug. 'So, do I take it you are unwilling to sell the woman to me?' he demanded, still faking bravery to save face in front of his attendant.

'I will not sell her,' Akalus replied. 'The woman stays here and you will make no mention to anyone else of what information you have extracted from my database, do you understand?' The room seemed to quake as he spoke, nothing obvious, just a subtle tremor that made Valkalar grip the arms of his seat tightly. 'I have not had a good day, Valkalar, and your presence here adds insult to injury. Now remove yourself from my presence and be thankful I do not kill you where you sit for your transgressions…both against me and nature itself.'

'The scriptures foretell of one who will come and set into effect events that will end in the destruction of all life as we know it,' Valkalar said as he rose from his chair and headed toward the door. 'Even with the promise of rebirth you give to those foolish enough to help you, how can that be better than what you claim that I intend?'

'Because it will right many wrongs…wrongs that should never have been committed.'

The prince frowned, unable to fathom what Akalus could possibly mean by that. 'And who gave you the right to make that decision?' he demanded. 'Why you, and not any of a dozen other despots sitting pretty in their power bases in this system?'

Once again, the air in the room seemed to thicken, and that gentle tremor increased to a more violent shaking, so much so that Valkalar was forced to steady himself against the doorway as he reached it. 'Because it is and always has been my destiny to do this.'

Though terrified, Valkalar refused to back down from the challenge. 'I see you hold yourself in high regard, Master Akalus. I, however, do not, and I also do not thank you for rebuffing my generosity this way. My offer is more than fair.'

'You should be thankful that I've given you the opportunity to see the error of your ways before I'm forced to act,' Akalus told him, rising from his chair and following his path toward the exit. 'The woman you seek does not exist. Forget the information you found. Tell no one, do you understand?

'And if I do tell?'

The room seemed to darken and close in, making Valkalar regret his question. 'You do not wish to incur my wrath, Valkalar. I have powers at my disposal you cannot begin to comprehend and you really do not want me to turn my attentions to you.'

Valkalar paused, considering making an apology before regaining his smugness and coming right back at him. 'I'm not afraid of you,' he snorted. 'If you are so powerful, why skulk here in the shadows of Phylacos? And why do you dare not show your true face. For all I know, you could be some immature Birajan child hiding behind that mask and armour. You claim to have powers…show them.'

There was a prolonged pause before Akalus replied, 'You do not want me to do that.'

Behind him, Valkalar sensed Tamrak trembling. He knew the sensible thing would be to back down, but his sense of indignation interfered with that logical reaction. How dare this imbecile make these outlandish threats to him? He was a prince of the Rammarant tribe, after all.

'This is not the last you have heard of this matter,' he said, pushing his quivering attendant toward the door. 'I am furious to have made this long journey to receive nothing more than your preaching for my trouble. When my tribe hear of how you have treated me, they will be equally appalled.'

The room shook again, in fact, it felt as if the whole building and the very ground it stood on vibrated vigorously to the extent that he thought he could hear the stone foundations it was built on crack. His head clouded with utter darkness that crushed in on his brain, blanking out all thought other than utter despair and the loss of all hope.

When he came to his senses, he was on his knees and sobbing, though he could barely remember why.

'You have been warned,' Akalus said simply, returning to his seat.

It took Valkalar several more long moments before he could gather himself enough to get back to his feet with Tamrak's help.

'This is not the end of the matter!' the prince blustered again, slapping Tamrak's hands away and straightening out his thick jacket. He felt sorely embarrassed by the encounter, and that embarrassment made him careless of his words.

'You would be wise to let this go,' Akalus warned, leaning forward on his desk toward the Birajan. 'Don't anger me further, Valkalar.'

The door shut between them, cutting the confrontation short.

The two Birajans looked at each other, Valkalar still seething. He smacked Tamrak around the back of his head. 'Where was your support, Tamrak? Why did you not tell him he could not speak to your prince that way?'

'If...if he is the one in the teachings…'

'He is not,' Valkalar raged, grabbing his attendant's collar and tugging him along as he headed back to his craft. 'The harbinger is a fallacy – part of a story designed to scare younglings, nothing more.'

'Yes, my prince,' Tamrak said, bowing his head. But the look in his eyes when he came upright again clearly showed the servant wasn't so sure.

oooOOOooo

When Sheppard opened his eyes again, there were several Reliquiae faces looking down on him.

Damn.

And he'd really hoped he might get lucky and die in his sleep.

As he struggled up into a sitting position so he could feel less vulnerable, they all took a few steps back to give him breathing space, almost as though they were keeping a respectful distance. Respectful or fearful…though he couldn't honestly believe it was the latter. The female who had spoken with him earlier was there with her back to him, programming a machine. The horrible thought that it might be some sort of torture device popped into his mind, and he battled with the fear now descending on him to keep it at bay so he could think clearly.

She turned to face him then, and as some kind of nominated spokeswoman, the auburn-haired female introduced him to his new companions. 'John Sheppard, following a gathering of the High Council of the Reliquiae, we have decided your life will be spared.'

The rush of relief that suddenly washed over him left him dizzy. He looked around at the group, each one almost salivating as they stared back at him. Occasionally, one would sniff the air, and her breathing would grow erratic until she could compose herself again. They might have decided to spare him, but they were definitely fighting their most base instincts to keep him breathing. He got the distinct impression they didn't like him and would be more than happy to tear out his jugular and drink his blood like a water fountain.

'You are still weak,' the female stated. 'We will restore your health to you and you, in turn, will help us.'

The others seated themselves on the bed around him, surrounding him, cutting off any escape route out of that room. He could hear their breathing, unnaturally shallow as if they had just finished a ten-klick run. His skin crawled at the thought that they were excited by his presence there. He hoped they had plenty of that _restraint_ the chatty one kept talking about.

'Oookaaay,' he drawled, eying them all suspiciously. 'So…what exactly do I have to do?'

'For now, you need simply relax and allow us to treat you.'

The female sitting to his left gently pressed a hand against his chest, insisting that he lay back down again. He wasn't exactly happy with the idea of lying prone in the middle of a bunch of flesh eating monsters, but for some reason he believed them when they said he was going to be spared. The push against him grew in intensity until he had to succumb to the silent instruction. Now he was back to looking up at the five faces staring down at him, only this time they were much closer.

He heard some more work being done on the device at the bedside, then Chatty Cathy, too, was leaning over him.

'Before we begin, I must attach these to you.' She took some wireless electrode pads and attached them over his heart and main pulse points and forehead. A holographic display of readings fired up, not that he could understand what any of them meant. Although, he thought the language looked oddly familiar…

'His heart rate and pulse are weak. Skin temperature is cooler than should be expected, and respiration is shallow,' the female reported to her _sisters_. 'We've reached him just in time.'

Sheppard couldn't help thinking that was a matter of perspective.

'The council has decided to take the rare decision to share our medicine with you,' he heard the female explain. 'You are valuable to us, and unless we do this, you will not survive more than a few days.'

He felt the prick of a needlepoint break the skin on his upper arm, a cold solution mixing with his blood. A few seconds later, his mind felt as though it was expanding and a sense of euphoria overtook his emotions, leaving him reeling and unable to focus. This felt worryingly familiar…

Instinctively he tried to resist, but instantly felt hands grab hold of him, pinning him to the bed. 'Be still, John Sheppard,' the chatty one soothed, her face coming into view above him wearing a serene smile. 'We mean you no harm. We only require your compliance. And to gain that we must make you reliant upon us.'

Oh hell! He'd known this was all too good to be true. He strained against them, and although he felt stronger again than he had when he'd woken, he still didn't have the strength to shake five of them off.

'You may not know who we are, John Sheppard,' Chatty Cathy purred, her eyes flashing with repressed anger. 'But your name holds resonance among our kind. It echoes of a past we yearn to return to. We know you will fight…we know you will resist…but we have something powerful enough to defeat even your opposition.'

'Who are you?' he demanded, pulling away as hard as his new-found vigour allowed. 'Why did you bring me here?'

The female's smile broadened into something more vicious. 'Long ago, your doctors found a way to _cure_ my kind,' she hissed, her words causing some of the females holding him to tighten their grip, their nails digging sharply into his skin. 'A traitor in our midst agreed to disseminate your _vaccine_ through subterfuge and aggression. A bid to regain status lost through his own carelessness. It made us weak, stole our differences, turned us into nothing more than an augmented version of you humans.'

She said that final word as if it tasted bitter in her mouth. He could feel the hatred they had been disguising oozing from all his captors now. And he had to admit, there was something vaguely familiar about these females. He dearly hoped he was wrong.

'For a while we became as you, feeding on the meagre scraps this universe provides. But something went wrong, just as something always goes wrong when you humans tamper with the natural course of things.'

Sheppard had an awful feeling he didn't want to hear what they were going to tell him. This didn't make sense. If he was right, what this female was telling him was only an idea in the pipeline when he'd last been aboard Atlantis. Had things really moved on this far?

'It seems fitting that you…one of the authors of our downfall…should be the one to restore us to what we once were,' she continued, sitting beside him and stroking the backs of her fingers down the plane of his left cheek in a manner he again found eerily familiar. 'Your life is now in our hands. We will keep you alive as long as you serve our needs…or as long as you amuse us. You will worship us as others once did. You will tell us what we need to know to return us to our former state. And with the knowledge you carry, the knowledge you will share with us, the Reliquiae will be reborn as the Wraith once again.'

Though his instincts had already told him that was why these females creeped him out so much, hearing her tell him what his subconscious had already pieced together made it more terrifyingly real. Sheppard fought hard as he felt another dose of what had to be enzyme enter his body via the syringe. The treatment that had changed them clearly hadn't stopped their bodies producing the enzyme even though they didn't need to keep humans alive to feed anymore. This had to be the augmentation she'd spoken of…a thing that could still keep them alive despite their physical decline. But without their feeding hands, this was the only way to get it into him. And if they could do that, they could make him an addict. No way was he going down that road. He had to get out of there.

But the Reliquiae were careful, only giving him enough enzyme to make him healthy enough to survive and get a taste for their _medicine_ , not enough to give him uncontainable strength. The five females easily held him, looking down on him with cruel dispassion. There was nothing to appeal to…no one here who would help him.

The female leaned right in close to him, her teeth showing a hint of the sharpness of the Wraith maws he knew so well. 'Soon, Wraith Slayer, you will tell us all we need to know of Atlantis and its final hiding place. You will lead us to the answers we seek to rectify this _cure_ your people cursed us with. And you will do it willingly.'

Another brief surge of cold liquid into his left arm left his brain reeling. Sheppard had no choice this time but to let the enzyme swarm his mind, scrambling his thoughts and setting his body alight until exhaustion and sensory overload mercifully claimed him.

* * *

 **A/N: Apologies if anything in this chapter doesn't flow so well. I've made a few changes but I am struggling with a ruptured eardrum at the moment and my tinnitus is driving me crazy, so concentration isn't easy while I'm trying to edit the story. I'm sorry I haven't replied to reviews received in the last few days. I will do so soon because they are all appreciated. All being well (or at least not getting worse!) I will still get the next chapter up on Monday. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Juroah brought the transporter in to land a significant distance from the Reliquiae's Agrastan fortress. From that point, they would have to make the rest of the journey on foot to avoid detection since it was highly likely that the Ancient females would be scanning the skies for approaching craft. They might normally be in an almost constant state of hibernation, but something told them they wouldn't be sleeping right now. And security would no doubt be high for fear of reprisals from Akalus after the theft of the human.

It was pitch black out on the grassy plains surrounding the mountainside fortress. It would be several hours before the first of the two suns rose, the night affording them much needed cover to approach without being visible. But the darkness brought its own dangers. The ground, uneven and rocky in places, caused them to stumble numerous times. The fissures out there could prove lethal, some of them measuring over fifty feet deep. As a result, their progress was slow and steady, though not impossible as Juroah and Mishta set their enhancers to night vision, and picked their way carefully across the grounds leading to the foot of the Agrastan Mountains.

The verdant foliage disguised more hazards than just the stones and crevices, though. This area was renowned for its varied and poisonous insect life, creatures that could paralyse you with a single bite and suck the life right out of you. Mishta hated insects, whether they were the relatively tiny venomous examples or the Kheprian guard-sized ones. They seemed so different to herself that they made her skin crawl, and she prided herself on being tolerant of most species…except humans. There appeared to be numerous variations of bugs scurrying around their feet. Now and again, one would time it badly and end up crunched under her boot, sending a shudder up the full length of her spine. She wondered if the fact these tiny creatures made her more nervous than the thought of breaking into the Reliquiae fortress meant she really did need more of her medicine.

Juroah had, as instructed, watched over her as she'd taken a dose during their flight. Juroah was a good friend and mentor to her, but he could be strict when he needed to be. He knew as well as Lansha did how unpredictable she could be without her medicine. He'd been on the receiving end of her violent mood swings once or twice when she'd neglected to take it, so she couldn't blame him for being so forceful about its necessity for this mission.

Their bodies aching with tension, they eventually reached the foot of the mountains, pausing to gaze up at the fortress morphing out of its craggy rises. It was barely visibly in the darkness, but lights glowed in several windows, giving them something to aim for in the midst of that gloomy rock face.

While they made this first part of the climb on the virtually vertical incline beneath the fortress, they knew they should be almost impossible to see. The Reliquiae had grown complacent in their old age, leaving the foot of the mountain unguarded, no doubt thinking themselves too threatening for anyone to risk enter their home by such a route rather than landing a craft at some of the various plateaus on the way up. Mishta knew, however, that the fortress itself housed scanners that would detect their presence the moment they entered it, and they'd come well equipped for the challenge.

Juroah fired his grappling hook as far up the rock face as it would reach, giving it a firm tug to ensure it could hold his weight before securing it to his climbing belt. It held fast. 'Come on, Mishta,' he whispered, repacking his grappling gun. 'There's no time to waste if we're to have any hope of retrieving the human and departing before sunrise.'

Mishta hadn't realised just how cold she was until she prepared her equipment to fire. With numb fingers, she lined up a shot from her grappling gun. It fired out, landing somewhere near Juroah's hook. After testing its strength, she unhooked the wire from her gun and attached it to her belt. Pushing the gun into her backpack, she signalled she was ready and they began their ascent.

It proved tough going, as fit as she was, and Juroah struggled even more. The cold air stole their breath, leaving them heavy-limbed and dizzy. Their cables wound in as they rose up the rock face, keeping taut to prevent them from falling. It was lucky they did that, because their numb fingers and toes didn't always find the best holds and many times they could easily have fallen if it weren't for the tightening wire.

Gradually, with assistance from small shrubs and various niches, they hauled themselves up, and with an overwhelming desire to get out of the biting night chill, they reached the smooth table on which the Reliquiae had constructed the fortress many centuries before.

Mishta gathered up her climbing gear and breathed on her fingertips to warm some life back into them, while Juroah pulled out their signal scrambling units. He attached one to the front of her jacket and set it running, programming it to the frequency they had been informed the Reliquiae scanners operated at.

'These will run for two hours only, so if we haven't found the human in that time, we'll have to come back out to give them time to recharge themselves. After that, we can try again...if we haven't been detected by then.'

His tone was grim as he said those final words. Mishta nodded her understanding, watching on as he set his own scrambler to the same frequency. 'You're certain these will work, Juroah?' she asked, just the slightest gnaw of nervousness nibbling at her bravado now.

He shrugged – really not the response she'd been looking for. 'I hope so. We paid good money for these and all the scanner frequencies used by local species.'

'But they've never been tested against Reliquiae technology before?'

He shook his head and gave her a worried smile. 'No, we've never needed to use them until now.'

'So, this _is_ the test?' she reasoned, her anxiety making her voice pitch that question a little higher than she would usually speak.

'Not scared are you, Mishta?' Juroah asked with a nudge, obviously picking up on it.

'Not for myself, no, but if they find us in their fortress, I'm afraid of what might happen to you, old man,' she replied. 'It's not my blood that would sustain them…and you are not as fast as you once were.'

He gave her a smile she knew was intended to calm her nerves. 'I can take care of myself, youngling. Don't waste another moment worrying for me. Here.' He pushed a gun into her hand. 'To defend yourself. It has enough power for twenty pulses, so use it sparingly. And take this, too.' He handed her a syringe.

'You know I prefer not to inject my dose,' she protested. 'And I'm not due another yet anyway.'

'Then, it's fortunate that's not for you. It contains a stimulant to rouse the human if they're keeping him sedated. We cannot afford to be carrying any extra weight if we have to make a speedy escape.'

She snatched it up from him and pushed it the breast pocket of her thick jacket, looking up at the vast building once again. They would have to be incredibly lucky if they were going to find the human in less than two hours.

'I think we should start with searching the upper floors. It's the most likely level they would hide him on because it's the most difficult to reach and the hardest to escape from.'

She nodded absently, but Mishta had a very different idea of where their target might be held. Her attention had been drawn by a room in a side tower with a domed roof. For one thing, it was the only light burning in that side of the building, making it stand out. And no doubt the room there had only one exit other than the sheer drop from the windows making it difficult for anyone held within it to leave by a route that wasn't covered by the biometric scanners rumoured to be operational inside the building. But more than that…the strangest sensation came over her, leaving her a queasy with nerves. A sense of…destiny. She almost laughed out loud at the thought, it was so ridiculous to her, but she had sensed it a few times in her life, just like the moment she had seen the Reliquiae craft heading to Phylacos and had felt compelled to follow it. She knew better than to ignore what instincts were telling her. 'I think we should go in there,' she said, pointing at the tower. 'I'm sure he's within those walls.'

'Why?'

'I don't know. It's just a feeling,' she told him with a casual shrug, preparing to make the climb. 'You just have to trust me.'

'But it's exposed – not easy to defend.'

'Or to escape from. Besides, you know the Reliquiae are complacent. Their reputations hold most at bay. It would not concern them.'

Juroah looked more contemplative now as he gazed up at the tall windows. 'Perhaps...'

'Wait here. I'll climb up and check inside.'

'Mishta -'

'I'll be careful, Juroah,' she promised, anticipating his warning.

Scaling the fortress wasn't as easy as climbing the mountain. It took three shots from her grappling hook to gain purchase on the exterior sill of one of the windows of the room she had identified as her target. Furthermore, the walls were so smoothly hewn she was almost entirely reliant on the cable to reel her up, a job it carried out much too slowly as far as she was concerned. Eventually, Mishta reached window height and carefully peeked over the sill into the room beyond, scouring its contents with a well-trained eye for keen observation.

The moment her brain registered what she was seeing, a deep-seated envy began to burn at her core. What lay within was the height of decadent luxury – beautiful handcrafted furniture, high vaulted ceilings, and a huge bed the likes of which she had never seen before. It made her own bed back at camp look sadly pathetic in comparison. Right now, she couldn't help but think she would chew her own arm off for a few hours of slumber in that masterpiece of craftsmanship. If only they had the time…

The bed filled a good portion of the chamber and was dressed with fine fabrics and plump pillows, so at first she didn't notice that lying dead centre of it, spread eagle and unconscious amidst the ruffled sheets, lay a human. Mishta's heart skipped at the realisation that her instincts had been right. But the lack of movement from his pale limbs in amongst the scarlet sheets left her wondering if their journey had been wasted after all. The human appeared to be dead, and she was about to climb back down and tell Juroah just that when common sense kicked in. If he was dead, the Reliquiae would surely have eaten every scrap of flesh from his bones. They would not have left his corpse lying on a beautifully adorned bed, like the final decoration atop some wonderfully sumptuous dessert.

Looking down to where Juroah waited for her, she signalled that she'd found something. From what she could see in the gloom he seemed surprised, fumbling at his belt before quickly firing his own grappling hook up to the same sill and rising to join her. He stared in stunned silence at the sight that met his eyes.

'The human,' he breathed. 'You were right!'

'You doubted me?' she smirked, but she didn't have time to bask in her moment of glory. 'The window is protected,' she said, pointing to the lower edge. There, a flicker of light, barely visible unless you knew what to look for, glowed out. It was a motion sensor, and it meant that if they crossed the barrier of the window, the Reliquiae would immediately know of their intrusion.

Juroah nodded but remained unfazed, slipping his backpack off to search for something that could help them with their dilemma. They'd been gradually purchasing technologies to help them infiltrate Phylacos for years. Now, they were about to put some of them to use in a setting they'd not been intended for. Soon, they would find out if the gadgets were worth the money they'd paid for them. If not, the cost would be much higher than the credits they'd handed over in trade for them.

Her companion eventually found what he sought and brought it close to the window, activating the device. It immediately began a search through different frequencies of sensor settings, hundreds of them in only a few seconds, until it found one that exactly mimicked the one operating at the window. He stuck the tiny device to the outer edge of the window frame and adjusted the beam until it struck the miniscule Reliquiae receptor directly. A light flashed to show the device was now fully operational and carrying out the desired task. Now, all they had to do was get through the window.

Inside the frame, in the top right-hand corner, they could see the window generator. It was linked to the security beam at the bottom, so if the generator was removed, it broke the beam. A power field formed the window, the nature of its resistance making it far more flexible than glass. Falling rocks could not break it, and no dust, dirt or rain ever sullied it, leaving visibility never anything less than perfect. Any solid matter coming near it was instantly repelled. Still, their mimicking devices meant that taking out the generator would be child's play…as long as they worked.

This time, Mishta had the device in her hand and ready to operate. As soon as the beam was in place, she set it running, rapidly searching through thousands of frequencies until it found the one they needed, and the window de-activated with the merest shimmer of energy.

They paused, hardly daring to believe it had worked so seamlessly…half expecting the Reliquiae to come crashing through the door at any moment. When that didn't happen, they climbed into the room, bringing the bitter night air in with them. It spilled into the bedchamber and began to fill it up, pushing the formerly resident warmer air out into the chilly night. Still, the relief of the slightly warmer room as it rapidly chilled was a welcome if brief respite all the same.

Juroah hurried over to an archway leading to an antechamber, gun at the ready, and ensured the additional room was clear. While he did that Mishta crossed to the bed. The human remained motionless, but his chest rose and fell steadily, showing he was still alive. She watched him, suddenly completely mesmerized. The only other human she'd ever seen in the flesh was her father. He, by his own definition, had been "nothing much to look at" – broad, squat, and bristling with hair on his face, arms, and legs. He'd joked that he was something called a bear, an animal from his home planet of Earth with a reputation for being bad tempered. But this human was different. He appeared to be relatively young, long and lean in build – perhaps a little too lean, but that was understandable after a stay at Phylacos. His skin had far more elasticity and fewer wrinkles than her father's, who had been over fifty human years old when both she and her brother were born. This man was, in all honesty, the most striking creature she'd ever seen.

She stared down at him, unable to tear her gaze from him her despite her previous hatred of all things human. She froze on the spot, unable to move as she watched him, enthralled, while he remained deep in his slumbers, unaware of her presence and completely incapacitated. A sudden and almost overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke him hair gripped her and she tentatively stretched out a hand toward it…

'Mishta, is he alive?' Juroah hissed from across the room. He edged now toward the main door to listen for sounds of activity outside.

His voice snapped her out of her stupor and she snatched her hand away. 'Yes,' she called back in a hoarse whisper, still unable to tear her gaze from the pale form stretched out in front of her.

'Then, wake him up! The less time we spend here, the better.'

She nodded, reaching into her breast pocket for the syringe of stimulant. When they'd set out on this journey to free the human from the Reliquiae's clutches, neither of them had expected it to be so easy. Admittedly, had they not previously purchased the technology to ease their path it wouldn't have been, but even so, it was hard to believe they'd found him so readily and would soon be out of there again. Pausing for one last, lingering look at the man's peaceful face, she plunged the needle into his neck and released its contents into his bloodstream.

It took only seconds to work its magic. The human's eyelids strained open and his head lifted a little off the bed. Then, his eyes fell on Mishta. She slapped her hand across his mouth to stifle the sound forming in his throat, and she signalled for him to be silent. 'If you want out of here, no noise,' she warned him in her best English. His eyes fixed on her – pale green with flecks of rich brown – and she watched the fog of sleep rapidly leave him to be replaced by sharp intelligence. He nodded his agreement, and once sure she had his compliance Mishta slowly moved her hand away. 'Now, get up.'

His uncertainty of the unfamiliar creature before him remained locked in his expression and he hesitated as he took a beat to mentally absorb her appearance, but then followed her instruction without a sound. As he stood, he stumbled and she caught him, supporting his weight until he steadied. He was quick to free himself from her grip, as if he didn't really trust her and had no desire to feel indebted.

Though his reaction to her was lukewarm at best, Juroah's appearance seemed to perturb the human even more. Not surprising, she supposed, since the only other pure bred Birajans he would have seen were the scientists employed by Akalus. The stories of their work that her father had shared late at night with her brother while they'd thought she was sleeping still haunted her now. They were ruthless and without compassion, viewing humans as specimens rather than sentient beings.

Juroah offered his help to the human and led him quickly to the open window. 'Come, we must leave now,' he called to Mishta, spurring her into action.

But as they neared the window, they heard a noise from outside. While Juroah tugged the human back away from the opening, Mishta leaned out carefully and soon spotted a group of Reliquiae women talking directly beneath their exit route. They were too far down for her to hear what they were saying clearly, but there was no urgency to their conversation, so it appeared they were not aware of the extraction in process many floors above them.

'Change of plan,' Juroah said, pulling her back from the window.

'We should listen. We might learn something useful,' she hissed, trying to return to the opening.

His grip on her arm tightened. 'I don't intend to spend a moment longer here than I have to. Let's find another way out.'

He was right, but she couldn't help feeling they'd missed an opportunity to gather valuable intel. Juroah was already heading for the door, so she caught the human's wrist and pulled him along with her. 'What do you plan to do…walk out of the front door?' she asked, unable to keep the doubt from her voice. 'We should wait and see if those Reliquiae move on. The window is our most direct route back out of here.'

'And if they don't move, what then?' he hissed. 'In less than two hours, we become visible to their scanners. It will be far harder to find another way out, then.'

'They won't need scanners to find us if we have to go through the building to get out. They'll smell him, and probably you if you get too close to any one of them. You know how easily they can seek out male flesh…especially human.'

'Who the hell are you people?' the human asked, finally breaking his silence. 'Have you come to take me back to prison?'

Mishta's hackles rose immediately with the insinuation they were in some way linked to Akalus. How dare this man suggest they had anything to do with that stinking place? Juroah took a steadying grip of her shoulder. 'He's only ever seen Birajans in Phylacos. It's natural he should make that assumption.'

'If you're not taking me back there, where are you taking me?' he demanded.

The two of them exchanged a startled look. 'He understands us,' Juroah gasped.

Mishta pulled the human's head down to her level and saw the unit inserted into his ear. 'They gave him a translator.'

'Then, he must be the right human. They wouldn't waste it on one they didn't consider special. It seems your translation skills weren't needed, after all.'

Mishta eyed the human dubiously, and shrugged. 'He doesn't look special to me,' she lied. Then, she activated the device she'd used to open the window and set about trying to open the door. In only a few moments, it figured out the code they needed to open it. She pressed it to the locking mechanism, and they heard a hiss as the latch pulled back and the door popped open a fraction.

Juroah pushed the door back enough to ease his body through and cautiously peered out into the empty corridor. 'I'll take the lead,' he whispered. 'Keep the human close to you. Hopefully your disruption field will mask his biometrics too.'

He signalled for them to follow him out, and the human did so at the nudging persuasion of Mishta's gun. She couldn't miss the annoyance in the look he gave her. Pale and skinny he might be, but he still had some spirit in him.

They slid along the corridor, pressed close to the walls. There were voices, distant and feminine along corridors leading off from the one they found themselves in. They allowed the sounds to guide their course, choosing passageways that echoed silence rather than conversation, with no real idea where any path they chose would take them. It felt as though they were journeying deep into the heart of the building. They sought a way down, but none was forthcoming.

Then, finally, Mishta spotted something that looked promising ahead of them - double doors at the end of a corridor. She pushed the human toward Juroah and ordered him not to leave his side, then she ran at the doors, slipping a knife from her belt and jamming it through the slight gap the joining of the two doors left. Prising them apart a fraction, she was able to force them further open to see what lay beyond.

'An elevator shaft,' she called back to Juroah.

He joined her to examine it, dragging the human along with him. Apparently understanding the need to stay in proximity he didn't resist, pressing himself back against the wall beside the doors and keeping watch along the corridor as if he was used to employing evasion techniques. The shaft dropped down into utter darkness – a seemingly bottomless hole. Yet, this would be their best chance of escape. It obviously led down beyond the fortress, perhaps even to the bottom of the mountain.

'What do you think?' Mishta asked her mentor.

'I think we have no choice,' he replied, gesturing with a sharp beckoning motion for their human to go through the doors.

The human shuffled over, peering down into the seemingly bottomless drop. 'Can I just say this is a bad plan…' he murmured, grimacing at the sight.

'You prefer to stay here?' Mishta spat.

'If that's the alternative…' he said dipping his head toward the shaft, 'yeah.'

'Staying here is not an option,' Juroah assured him. 'There's too much at stake for us to leave you behind.'

'Like what?' the human demanded.

'There's no time to explain,' Juroah snapped, losing his patience. 'If you want to escape the Reliquiae, you must come with us now.'

Voices, not so far away, forced the man into a decision. He peered down the shaft, teetering on the edge of the seemingly endless drop. 'You're gonna call the elevator, right?' he asked, edging backwards.

'We don't need one,' Mishta insisted, holstering her gun. 'This way is much quicker.'

'What waaayyy!' the human cried, as a push in his back sent him plummeting into the abyss.

Before the voices could come any closer, Mishta and Juroah followed quickly behind him.

The descent seemed to last an eternity. Thankfully, the shaft was wide, and although at times she sensed she drifted close to its sides, she did not collide with them. They all came to a sudden, bone-shaking halt only a few feet above the solid stone ground.

Mishta grinned wildly as she activated a small flashlight and swam her way across to another set of double doors that marked their exit. She pushed the blade of her knife between them once again, and peered through the gap the act revealed. Though concealed by rocky outcrops, it opened onto the foot of the mountain out of sight of the Reliquiae females that had blocked their planned escape route.

'Was that escape quick enough for you, Juroah?' she laughed.

'We aren't free yet,' he warned.

'Wh...what the hell…w…was that?' the human asked, still so shocked by his sudden descent that he could hardly string a sentence together. 'You...you could have k...killed me!'

'I knew the anti-gravity cushion at the bottom of the shaft would stop you,' Mishta said, matter-of-fact.

'I was thinking more of the heart attack…on the way down,' he grumbled, clutching at his chest as if he feared his heart might actually fall out. She did her best to stifle the smirk his fear brought to her face. There was no time to gloat about his lack of daring.

A sound from above them caught their attention. The elevator car was on the move, and from the growing rumble it wasn't hard to calculate it was on its way down.

'We must move quickly!' Juroah hissed, catching hold of the human's arm. He kicked off against the back wall to propel them toward the doors, just as Mishta forced them open.

They were barely out of the shaft when the car came into view. They raced to hide themselves before the occupants could disembark and find them. In the darkness, and with so many craggy hiding holes available, it was easy to conceal themselves from view. But the Reliquiae possessed other enhanced senses they had yet to contend with and Mishta instinctively knew they were not out of danger yet.

Two Reliquiae stepped out of the lift and began to walk away from them. They carried a large box between the two of them, obviously too heavy for only one of them to manage. At first, they seemed so engrossed in their task that Mishta thought they'd remain undiscovered.

Then, they stopped.

'Do you smell something?' one asked, testing the air.

The other also appeared to pick up a scent. 'I do.'

'The human's blood must be potent if we can smell it down here.'

'He was carried in this way. Perhaps his scent lingers here still.'

The slightly taller of the two allowed her eyes to wander over the nearby area. 'Perhaps,' she mused.

They set off, but only got a few more paces before one of them stopped again.

'The scent is weaker here.'

'A little, yes.'

'Do you not think that strange?'

There was a brief pause in conversation before the other asked, 'What are you thinking?'

There was another moment of hesitation, and then the Reliquiae turned toward the human's location before answering her sister. 'That the human might not be where he should be.'

Mishta could see him from her hiding place. Though he was out of their line of vision, he wasn't far enough from their position to move without being spotted. The Reliquiae would easily find him.

The two put down the box they bore and began to retrace their steps, while the human tried to edge further back into the niche concealing him. The hole unfortunately refused to allow that. A few more steps and the Reliquiae would be upon him.

Not so far away, she saw Juroah slowly slip his pulse gun from its holster. Much as he didn't want the Reliquiae to steal the human back from them, he wanted them to find him even less, and being a male they might decide he was worth eating even if his flesh would only give them minimal sustenance.

As the two tall, slender females came into view, he lifted his weapon a little to line up a shot. Mishta could hear the human's shuddering breaths scraping in and out of his lungs, so there was no way the Reliquiae couldn't. They zeroed in on the man's position quickly, spotting him lurking in the shadows of his murky hole.

'You should not be out here, Human,' one called to him. 'Come with us peacefully, and you will not be harmed.'

The human stepped out and raised his hands, deliberately keeping his gaze fixed on the Reliquiae. He gave no clue as to the positions of his companions, who remained hidden nearby. 'Okay. You got me. Can't blame a guy for trying though, right?'

One female snatched up his arm, pulling him close. 'How did you get out of your room? You were meant to sleep until morning. You could not have got down here without help.'

'No. Indeed. Perhaps –' the other growled, her posture tensing. Then without warning she spun around and launched, catching hold of Juroah and disarming him before he had a chance to react, '— you had something to do with this.'

She clutched Juroah by the throat, her nails digging into his flesh. Their calm behaviour departed them with the spilling of the Birajan's blood. A deep-throated hiss issued forth from the both of them, the second female catching hold and tugging at Juroah as if about to tear a piece of him away for herself.

Suddenly, the human yelled, 'No...Stop...Please...I'll come with you quietly if you don't hurt him.'

'You'll come with us whether we hurt him or not,' the Reliquiae sneered. 'You have no choice.'

Two pulse shots hit the females, throwing both them and Juroah to the floor, and with them now stunned, Mishta made short work of killing the Reliquiae to ensure they left no witnesses. Juroah looked badly stunned by the pulse that had travelled through the Reliquiae holding him, but he managed to stagger back to his feet with a little assistance from the human.

'And that is why I needed to come on this mission,' Mishta said triumphantly. 'They found you, but they could not find me.'

'All right. If you want my thanks, you have it,' Juroah said, struggling to find his balance. 'As do you, Human.'

'I didn't do anything,' he said.

'You created a diversion. It gave Mishta an opportunity to act.'

Unimpressed about having to share her moment of glory with him, Mishta eyed their new companion with distaste, then turned her back on the pair of them and strode over to the box the Reliquiae had abandoned in their pursuit of him. It bore a coded lock, but once again, it posed no problem to the device she carried. She lay it across the lock, and it began to run through all possible permutations, the lock springing open as it was swiftly decoded. Inside sat a large quantity of Wraith hand weapons.

Mishta's jaw dropped. Never in her life had she seen so many of them. 'Ulkara be praised,' she breathed.

Hearing her reaction, Juroah hurried to join her. He, too, found himself at a loss for words. 'Wh…wh…where were they taking all these?' he eventually asked.

Mishta looked back over her shoulder at Sheppard, who patiently waited for them. 'I suspect they were mobilising their numbers for action,' she growled. She narrowed her eyes at the now approaching human. 'What did you tell them?'

He instantly held up his hands. 'Hey, don't go looking at me. I didn't tell them anything.'

'Hmphh.' She squatted down beside the box and began pulling all the non-essential items from her backpack. Mostly food and drink supplies. Nothing that could identify them if they were found.

'What are you doing?' Juroah asked.

'Taking the guns…or at least as many of them as I can carry.'

'There's no time. We have to get back to the transporter before anyone realises the human is missing.'

'Weapons like this, in this condition…they're worth a small fortune,' she dropped her voice to a whisper so the human wouldn't overhear them. 'Those explosives we need…they won't come cheap. We can't afford _not_ to take them.'

After a few more seconds of pondering, Juroah nodded and sorted through his own pack so he could stuff it full of guns, too.

The noise of the elevator car rising in the shaft again made them all start. Someone had called it, which most likely meant that someone else would soon be on their way down.

'Uhh…I don't mean to criticise,' the human ventured, 'but shouldn't this escape involve us getting further away from this place? You know, like…actually escaping?'

They looked up at him, frowning, but Mishta had to concede he made a good point. She ordered her companions to help her hide the bodies of the dead Reliquiae, which they did as best they could with the limited light and available cover they had, then she crammed a few more weapons into her pack and turned to look the human square in the eyes. 'I hope you're feeling fit, Human. We have quite the journey ahead of us.'

'You could always pass me one of those guns…lighten your load,' he suggested, but she figured the withering look she sent him told him all he needed to know of what she thought about that idea. 'Or not…'

Instead, she snapped a rappel belt around his waist and picked up the spare grapple gun Juroah had removed from his pack, firing it into the ground. She attached the wire to the human's belt and told him how to operate the gradual release of the line. From the corner of her eye, she watched him test the wire for strength and hold, not nearly as alarmed but the prospect of the descent as she'd imagined he might be. It made her wonder, just for a moment, whether this human wasn't as pathetic as she'd thought he would be.

She fired her own grapple just a couple of feet away from his, secured her line, and leaned bac at the edge of the precipice as Juroah did the same the other side of him. 'Ready, Human?'

'As I'll ever be,' he grunted, hitting the release button and stepping off the edge.

Mishta and Juroah exchange a look, the latter giving her a smirk and a nod, as if he was impressed. Mishta only rolled her eyes. It would take more than this minor display of courage to convince her this human was best kept alive.

* * *

 **A/N: Sooo, maybe Sheppard is better off now...we'll have to wait and see! Thanks again for the reviews; I'm still battling with the noisiest ear ever so will do my best to keep on top of things but if there is a delay with any chapter it just means I'm taking a rest.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Mehra woke suddenly to the sound of her cell door unlocking again. Not that she'd slept well; she'd stressed herself to sleep over the loss of her former CO, and every slight noise or blood curdling scream had woken her at far too regular intervals. It didn't help that her stomach was now cramped with hunger. She hadn't eaten much in...well, actually, she was already beginning to lose track of how many days and hours had passed since her last decent meal on Atlantis. And Geeja's bread, though filling for a short while, just hadn't been enough. It looked like today she would actually be forced to eat the slop that passed for food here.

A young man stumbled in through the open door. He skidded on the slippery food thrown in the night before, but regained his balance without falling. As the door slammed shut behind him, he rushed at it, thumping it with his fist. 'Oi! What's going on, you bastards? Is this it? Where are you going?'

'It won't do any good,' Mehra said from the shadows. 'They won't answer you.' She realised she sounded just like Sheppard had that first time he'd spoken to her from his gloomy corner of the cell. His disembodied voice had startled her, and she didn't want this young man to feel the same. So, she got to her feet and approached him, offering her hand.

He stared at her slack-jawed for a few moments, before accepting the gesture and taking her hand in his.

'I'm Mehra,' she said, squeezing his hand firmly as she gave it a brief shake.

'Liam,' he replied. 'Sorry about the language. I didn't see you there.'

His handshake was firm too and somehow reassuring, his palm scarred with callouses that spoke of a long time spent doing hard labour. He was thin but strong-looking, someone who might be more able to fight than Sheppard had been. A spark of hope ignited in her that she didn't dare acknowledge. It was too early to broach the subject just now, but she was optimistic he would be open to persuasion.

'No biggy,' she shrugged. 'I said a lot worse when they put me in here.'

His eyebrows lifted at that, and he smirked uncertainly as if he wasn't sure whether to believe her or not.

'I'm military,' she explained, gesturing to her clothes. 'Comes with the territory.'

'Ah, right,' he nodded as if it made perfect sense to him now. He looked around at the cell. 'Still…this place is a shit-hole. Must have been scary being in here on your own.'

She shrugged, indifferent to her surroundings. 'I been in worse places…besides I wasn't alone the whole time.'

'Really. So where did your roommate go?'

A wave of sadness washed over her and she fought back a prickle of tears. She rarely cried, and she wasn't about to start in front of this kid. She headed over to the door and pretended to look out of it until she regained her composure. Something about this place just seemed to tap into levels of despair otherwise unspoken. 'He got sick. He had to go away,' she muttered, hoping he'd drop the subject.

'Had you been in here with him for long?'

Mehra sighed inwardly. The kid had questions, just like she'd had when she'd endlessly pestered Sheppard for info. She couldn't blame him for asking them. So, she sucked it up. 'I've only been here for a day or two. But I knew him from before we came here. He was my CO,' she replied, turning to face him as she leaned her back against the door.

'Oh, so you're new intake?' he replied, shoulders slumping. 'And here I was hoping you could tell me something I don't already know about this place.'

'Well, I did learn a few things from Sheppard, but there wasn't time to pick up everything.'

'Sheppard? Was that his name?'

'That _is_ his name,' she corrected. She didn't even want to contemplate the fact he could be past tense by now. Geeja had said the Reliquiae needed him, and Mehra was clinging to that hope to get her past her all-consuming guilt for not being able to stop them taking him.

Liam instantly picked up on the tone of her reply. 'Sorry. No offence meant.'

'I know.' She sighed, pushing some stray strands of hair back from her forehead. 'I didn't mean to snap.'

'I take it he was good to work for…I've heard being in a military team can be like having a second family.'

Was this kid deliberately trying to break her down? 'Yeah…it is. You look out for one another…' Except she hadn't. She'd frozen and let him down right when he'd needed her most.

Thankfully Liam chose that moment to change the subject. He thumbed back over his shoulder. 'I see you didn't eat your meal last night.'

She looked at the pile of mulch he'd slipped on, the sight of it sending her stomach into spin drive. 'No. I didn't have much of an appetite.'

He chuckled and she could make out that he nodded as if he completely understood that sentiment. 'I find it helps if you're starving before you eat the stuff. You'll get used to the taste after a while...and it does keep you alive.'

'You say that like it's a good thing,' she joked.

'Wow! Are they mattresses?' Liam gasped, looking back and forth between the two stinking heaps of rags. 'Which one's yours?'

She pointed to the one she'd just vacated, not that she really wanted to officially lay claim to either of the putrid heaps of cloth and stuffing.

'Well, this one must be mine, then,' he said cheerfully, plopping down onto Sheppard's mattress. Mehra bit back the urge to tell him it wasn't his, knowing it was pointless to feel possessive when she would probably never see Sheppard again. Besides, Liam seemed to genuinely appreciate the small amount of comfort it afforded him. 'We have to sleep on the floor down in the mines -'

That immediately piqued her interest. 'The mines? You were down in the mines?'

'Yeah, for two years…ish. I've kind of lost track of time, to be honest. But, you know, ball park figure…'

'Did you see a big guy down there…about six-feet five –'

'Dreadlocks?'

Her heart leaped in her chest. 'Yes!'

'Yeah, I saw him,' he told her. 'Why? Is he your boyfriend?'

She frowned, thinking that was an odd assumption. Had she really looked that happy? 'No. Another colleague,' she clarified.

'Right. You know a lot of people in this place considering you're new here.'

She ignored the small talk and fired out another question. 'So, you saw Ronon in the mines this morning?' she asked, looking for some reassurance of his position after seeing him flee the hall yesterday.

'No…not this morning. Haven't seen him since yesterday morning, actually. Some of those bug guys took him out of the mines shortly after the work bell sounded and I didn't see him again after that. They took about six of them from what I saw…all men about his age. None of them came back.'

 _Good eating for the Reliquiae,_ she supposed. So Ronon hadn't returned to the mines? Either he'd been captured and eaten…which didn't bear thinking about… or, and this was her preferred theory, he was somewhere loose in Phylacos. He _had_ made a run for it, after all.

'Go, Ronon!' she murmured. But, of course, he had no idea she was there. If he found the rest of his team and somehow found out Sheppard was gone, he wasn't going to come looking for her. 'Don't suppose you saw any of my other colleagues? A woman, small but strong…wearing a uniform like mine. Would have shown up at the same time as Ronon, about six months ago.'

Liam appeared to give that some thought. 'Yeah…there was a woman came in a few months back…brown hair, coffee-coloured skin…very pretty…'

'Don't get all mushy,' Mehra snorted. 'She could kick your ass with both hands tied behind her back. And she's still down there?'

He shrugged. 'As far as I know. I don't notice everyone every day.'

'But she's not dead,' Mehra clarified.

'Not unless she died overnight. I saw her yesterday evening before work finished. She looked worried…I'm guessing she was wondering where the dreadlock guy was.'

'That's good…that's good…' If Teyla was alive and Ronon was free there was a chance she might get home to Torren…just as Sheppard had wanted her to. If only he'd known she had survived. 'There was another man on their team…a Canadian…clothes like mine again…about five feet ten…kinda chubby.'

This time Liam shook his head and Mehra's heart sank. 'Doesn't sound like the kind of person who ends up down in the mines. Only the fit ones go down there…ones they think they can work hard and not die too soon…at least not straight away. I heard the big ones get…eaten –'

An involuntary retch rose through Mehra's whole body as yesterday's massacre came back to the forefront. 'Don't even joke about that,' she grumbled, covering her mouth for fear she hadn't got full control of her guts.

'I wasn't.' She could feel him watching her as she battled to push the dark thoughts back from her mind. 'I'm sorry…I shouldn't have told you.'

'It's fine. I was just…I was remembering something,' she told him, leaving it at that. Was that how McKay had gone down, too? As much as he could be a pain in the ass with all his technical mumbo-jumbo and whining, no one deserved to go that way.

Liam sat in silence for a while, and she could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain while he tried to think of a conversation point to keep things going. Normally talking wouldn't be a problem for her and she would have helped him out, but right now she really didn't have the enthusiasm. Still, knowing that at least Teyla and Ronon were still around was like the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Sheppard might be gone now…and McKay might not have made it at all, but if she could find some way out of the cell and hook up with the other two, she might just make it out of here after all.

'So, did this Sheppard guy tell you what goes on on this level?' Liam asked, interrupting her thoughts 'We don't know much of anything else down in the mines. There's a lot of wild rumours flying round down there. There's talk of experiments...mutations and stuff. It's probably complete garbage-'

'No...No it isn't,' she stammered, her imagination now running away with her. 'Sheppard said they're trying to make more humans, but apparently things aren't going so well.'

'You mean there _are_ mutants out there?' he gulped.

'Sheppard said there was an augmented cloning programme where they can grow new humans real fast. Except, they don't develop normally - mentally or physically.'

Liam's eyebrows lifted. 'No shit?'

'No shit.'

'So, what are we here for?'

She gave a him a grim smile and replied, 'Where'd you think they get their genetic material from?'

Liam's eyes widened, and for just a moment he appeared to be at a loss for words. Mehra couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He'd probably hoped the change of scenery would mean an improvement in his circumstances, but this was definitely a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire.

'Nobody down in the mines mentioned this part,' he said quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them like a lost and frightened child. 'I think I was better off down there.'

She crossed over to his bed and sat beside him, nudging her shoulder against his. 'Look on the bright side, kid. At least now you have a mattress.'

The glance he cast her way told Mehra that wasn't going to be enough compensation when the tissue harvesting started.

She couldn't help but think he had a point.

oooOOOooo

The kick to the corner of his cot in the lab almost sent Rodney spilling from his bed. Heart thumping fit to burst, he blinked the sleep from his vision to find Akalus towering over him.

'You've slept long enough, Dr McKay. Back to work,' he boomed, kicking the cot again to rouse the scientist from his bed.

'All right…all right. I'm up,' Rodney protested, instantly regretting his choice of words when Akalus grabbed him by the throat and heaved him off his feet to bring him up to eye level…or at least mask level.

'I'm am not in the mood to be crossed, McKay,' he growled. 'I have suffered a setback in my work and I am tired of the delays you keep experiencing. You have six days to make significant advances with those calculations or there will be consequences.'

'I'm working as fast as I can,' Rodney managed to choke out. 'First you withhold information, then you tell me I've travelled through time…lots of time…and then you give me unrealistic timescales in which to achieve the near impossible. This stuff isn't simple. If I get it wrong you could 'gate to the wrong world and…and...get eaten by monsters, or swallowed by a singularity…and I don't think you want that, do you?'

'No, I want far more than that,' Akalus agreed, 'and since the only reason you are being kept here in relative comfort is that you told me you could follow my schematics and replot my database of Stargate addresses, you might wish to reconsider the speed you are currently working at. Perhaps you would be better placed in my genetics programme and I'll do the work myself…'

'No!...No!' Rodney whimpered, the edges of his vision beginning to dim. 'I can do this, I know I can. I just may need more than six days.'

'Ten then,' Akalus growled, the metallic voice grating on Rodney's jangled nerves. 'But no more.'

'What is it with you megalomaniacs and arbitrary numbers?' Rodney barked back in a harsh rasp. He regretted it when Akalus' grasp on him tightened even more. 'You can't threaten me into working faster than is humanly possible. It doesn't work that way!' he just about managed to hiss.

'Ten days…and you're only getting that amount of time because of the set back.' He leaned his mask in close, so it was no more than a couple of millimetres from the end of Rodney's nose. 'Do not disappoint me.'

After a pause to stop himself from saying something he would regret, Rodney managed a vague semblance of a nod while trying to loosen up Akalus' grip on his throat. If the idiot didn't let go of him soon he wouldn't have enough brain cells left alive to calculate the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle, let alone the location of hundreds of Stargates.

Thankfully, Akalus released him twenty-two seconds short of the three-minute limit for lack of oxygen…not that he was counting. Rodney staggered a moment, and steadied himself against his work station. 'I'll see what I can do, but threats can't make me achieve the impossible,' he gasped, rubbing at his sore neck.

'Look upon this as…motivation,' Akalus told him, heading for the door. 'You are supposedly a genius. You have had more than enough time to figure this out by now.'

And with no further conversation Rodney was left alone with his work and his fears. So far, he hadn't been able to decode any of Akalus private files, some of which had to contain clues about what Akalus was up to. All he had left was ten days to stall until Akalus expected a complete set of locations or his innards for samples. He had to crack the coded files way before then to have any hope of stopping Akalus if the need arose. He couldn't help some psycho to take over the universe, even if it was unwittingly. Sheppard would never forgi…

Rodney stopped himself short. Why was he worrying about what Sheppard would think? He didn't even know if he was alive anymore. He'd received preferential treatment because he had transferrable skills that were useful to Akalus' plans. If the others didn't possess anything of use…

He stopped himself short there. He'd gone over these thoughts time and time again, asked Akalus for information on his conspicuously absent team mates, and in the entire five and a half months he'd been working on this project and begging for news he'd learned exactly squat. He wasn't a man who believed in luck, but John Sheppard had always been one of the luckiest bastards alive. And for now, despite the odds since he was still stuck there, he chose to believe that Sheppard was down there somewhere in the bowels of Phylacos planning a way to get them all out of this mess, so if there was one thing he could do to help, scuppering Akalus' work had to be it.

Preferably in less than ten days…

oooOOOooo

Following a long and arduous journey by foot across the grasslands on the outskirts of Agrastan, Sheppard was unceremoniously shoved onto the transport vessel that would hopefully put them at a safe distance from the Reliquiae with little thought for his somewhat feeble condition.

He spilled to his hands and knees, then Mishta grabbed his shirt as if catching a dog by the scruff, and pulled him toward the back of the cabin, away from the controls.

Juroah secured the hatch behind them and jumped into the pilot's seat. 'Search him and make sure he's not carrying anything the Reliquiae can trace.'

'You mean, other than his blood?' Mishta called to him.

'I mean something like a tracking device. They won't smell his blood from this distance...I hope.'

'I wouldn't be so sure,' she mumbled, then, without missing another beat, Mishta forced Sheppard's face up against the hull with a thud that left his cheekbone stinging. Though stunned, he instinctively put his hands up for support, and to keep them in sight; he didn't want her to shoot him because she thought he was reaching for a weapon. She struck him as the type who might, just to be safe.

The body search was as aggressive as he'd expected. Apparently, this Mishta and the concept of gentleness had never been formally introduced. Keeping her gun against his temple, she rubbed and thumped her way down his back, then pressed in close so she could reach around him and do the same to his chest. Kicking his legs apart, she ran her hand down the front and back of both of them, finally patting him hard on the crotch.

His legs buckled as a wave of pain radiated out through his whole body. He curled up into a foetal position at her boots, groaning through clenched teeth to suppress the cry he was keeping locked in behind them.

Mishta stood over him, looking on with slight bemusement. 'What's wrong with you, Human? Are you sick?'

'What did you do to him?' Juroah called back from his pilot seat.

'Nothing…I searched him, like you told me to,' she protested, planting her hands on her hips and nudging at him with her foot as if she thought he might be faking.

'You didn't have to be so heavy-handed,' Sheppard wheezed, holding onto his crotch because it felt like it might explode the moment he let go of it.

Sadly, Mishta's compassion was short-lived and had already reached its limit. 'He's acting,' she decided, stooping down to pull his hands away. 'He must be hiding something.'

'Just my embarrassment,' he insisted, refusing to let her budge them. 'There's nothing you need to see down there!'

'Mishta. He is human, not Birajan,' Juroah reminded her.

'I know that! Why are you telling me this now?' she grunted, still straining to pull away Sheppard's rigid limbs.

'Consider your father and brother. Humans are…built differently to us Birajan men. That may be all he's concealing.'

She snatched her hands back with a gasp, and suddenly it wasn't only _his_ embarrassment that needed to be concealed. 'W…w…why didn't you say something?' she charged, as if Sheppard had somehow misled her into manhandling him.

'I didn't know you didn't know!' Sheppard replied, beginning to uncurl as he sensed the danger of further injury had passed.

She leaned back, scrubbing her palms on her thighs and muttering something he didn't quite catch, but was certain was another attempt to pass the buck his way.

'Do you see any marks on him…anything to suggest a Reliquiae implant?' Juroah asked

With a distinct eye-roll and lip-curl she ordered him to strip off his BDU shirt.

Sheppard arched an eyebrow. 'Really? We only just met…' he quipped.

Unfortunately, this Mishta apparently had no sense of humour. 'The matter is not up for debate,'she growled, shoving her gun into his face.

With a sigh, he removed his shirt, and then Mishta tugged his t-shirt sleeves up to shoulder level and examined his arms inside and out. She paused and ran her thumb over the syringe tracks inside his elbow joints, her eyes flicking up to his with clear suspicion. 'There are marks,' she told her colleague. 'Some recent.'

'They gave me enzyme,' Sheppard told her. 'Not an implant.' He failed to mention the drugs to keep him alive at Phylacos; they didn't need to know that right now.

'So you say,' she mumbled, running her fingers over the marks with more pressure as if feeling for something under the surface of his skin. 'We'll check for ourselves, if it's all the same to you.'

'Why would I lie? Do you think I want those flesh-eating monsters to come find me?'

The woman locked her vivid violet eyes on his again, full of anger and mistrust. 'The Reliquiae share their enzyme with no one. Why would they give it to you?'

'I…' He stopped himself. He didn't want to admit any weakness in front of these strangers so he opted not to tell them they had healed his sickness. 'They wanted to make me obedient. They planned to get me hooked on the stuff.'

The female blinked back at him, her pretty features contorted by confusion and thought. 'I have heard stories of days gone by – thousands of years ago – when the Reliquiae did such things – ' she mused.

'Mishta…' her companion warned. Then, as if covering his intervention Juroah added. 'Hold him still. I'll run the ship's internal scanner and check for transmissions.'

Mishta needed no further invitation to more-or-less sit on him and hold him down, leaving it hard for him to breath.

'The earpiece is standard Pegasus issue, not Reliquiae tech; it's only receiving and translating, not transmitting. But there's something else…' Juroah told her, reading the data his HUD was displaying, 'some kind of transponder in his upper left arm.'

Mishta snatched at that arm again, checking the skin for signs of blemishes. 'Are you certain? I can't see any recent marks other than the injection sites further down.'

'It's not Reliquiae technology either…' Juroah called back. 'I'll search the database for any matches.'

Sheppard squirmed to ease the pressure on his chest, earning a frightening scowl from his captor. 'Be still. The scanners will do their work much quicker if you don't move.'

'Not sure about Birajans…but we humans…need…to breathe,' he wheezed, managing to wriggle his ribcage out from under her as she did a little shimmy move that allowed him some small amount of leeway. 'Thank you,' he added, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

The woman seemed happy with the compromise of sitting on his stomach instead. He supposed either was comfy for her, but having a leggy alien sitting on him, though not necessarily a bad thing under normal circumstances, wasn't something his skinny body could take right now.

'It's of Vanir origin.'

The anger returned to Mishta's face in a millisecond. 'You moved with the Vanir? They were vile and violent creatures! What kind of a man are you?' she growled, pressing the heel of her hand down on his sternum as she leaned over him.

'No…no. It's Asgard tech. They're…distant relatives. Nice guys…at least they were…you'd have liked 'em!'

'Asgard?' Juroah shouted over from his pilot seat. 'That's not a species I'm familiar with.'

'Nor I,' Mishta announced, doubt clouding her expression.

'They're from…well, let's just say they're not from around these parts.'

'So where are _you_ from, Human?' Mishta asked, narrowing her eyes as she glared down at him.

'The name's John,' Sheppard said by way of an introduction. 'I figure if you're gonna sit on me for the whole journey, you might as well call me by my name.'

'I have no interest in your name, Human,' she spat, as if the thought of befriending him was completely repugnant to her. 'I am only concerned with the danger you pose to us and how to neutralise it.'

Neutralise it? That didn't sound good. 'Why would I be a threat to you? I don't even know who you people are.'

No one answered, but Mishta got up off him and started rummaging through an overhead compartment looking for something. He started to sit up, but she immediately ordered him to stay down. He settled for scooting back and leaning against the transporter's hull, watching and wondering what she was up to.

Eventually she hauled out a large case and thumped it down on the floor beside him. She pulled out a headset and slipped it on, tapping it several times until a miniature HUD appeared before her eyes.

'Cool…' Sheppard cooed. It was so rare they came across a Pegasus race with advanced technologies that it always surprised him. He wasn't quite so excited when she pulled something decidedly gun-shaped out and squatted down beside him.

'Hey…what the –?' His protest was cut short by a sharp pain in the side of his neck as she pressed the barrel against it. A syringe? Okay, that wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought it was going to be. 'Ow…'

'Don't be such a child,' Mishta grunted, filling a vial before removing the offending medical implement from his neck. She unlocked the cylinder containing his blood and inserted it into a slot in the medical case. The HUD in front of her began to scroll through many screens of data, none of which he could read.

'No wonder the Reliquiae were so keen to take you from Phylacos,' the female breathed, seemingly awed by what she was reading. Then, apparently realising how that had sounded she schooled her features back into a scowl. 'He was telling the truth about the enzyme…there's still some in his system, but not enough to be influencing him at this moment.'

'You must be very important for the Reliquiae to share the enzyme with you, Human,' Juroah called back from the front of the craft. 'They will not be pleased to find you missing.'

'Which is why,' Mishta announced, suddenly wielding a frighteningly sharp looking scalpel, 'We have to get that transponder out of you.'

'Don't suppose you have anything resembling anaesthetic?' Sheppard asked, eyeing the blade warily.

'I don't suppose I do,' she confirmed, matter-of-fact.

'Don't suppose this could wait until you have some?' he ventured. He'd had enough impromptu surgeries over the past six months to last him a lifetime. Maybe it was a Birajan thing…

'Your transponder is a unique identifier and you can be sure the Reliquiae are aware of it. It needs to come out now.' She rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt up out of the way. 'Now sit still or I'll cut your throat and throw you out the hatch.'

From inside the kit she pulled out a small container and tipped something that looked like the slime kids like to play with onto his forearm. 'Eeww! What the hell is that?'

'Synthetic biological tissue. It's designed to mimic the lifeform it's in contact with, copying your genetic imprint and biorhythms. We use it to temporarily treat serious injuries requiring surgery.'

It felt weird; first cold, then gradually warming and building from a slight tingle to a definite prickle on his skin. It began to change in both colour and texture, as if it was becoming an extension of him. It made him squirm and complain to the point that Juroah heard him.

'Do you need help there, Mishta?' he called back, peering over his shoulder at them. 'I can set it to autopilot and assist?'

'That won't be necessary,' she insisted. Sheppard stopped struggling the moment Mishta lifted the scalpel-like blade and held it in front of his face, rolling it in her fingers as an eyepiece unfurled from her headset and locked into position in front of her right eye. 'You're not going to give me any trouble, are you, Human?'

He met her fierce gaze, for a moment determined to give her plenty of trouble, but her focus didn't waver. Not for a moment. She meant to get that transponder out of him and if he didn't sit still there was no doubt in his mind that he'd be the one to come off worse.

'No…no trouble,' he agreed. He could do this…and hopefully it would be the very last time he had to. Leaning back against the hull, he tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and waited for the inevitable pain of the cut.

He didn't have to wait long, and the intensity of it left him hissing a curse through clenched jaws he wouldn't normally annunciate with a lady present. Then again, this Mishta wasn't exactly what could be considered a lady based on her performance so far…

The shrill blare of an alarm interrupted his pain-fuelled ponderings. He felt the grip on his arm disappear and when he opened his eyes, Mishta was up front with Juroah examining something on the craft's HUD.

'Reliquiae,' she hissed. 'And they're closing on our position.'

'Did you get that transponder out yet?' Juroah asked her.

'Not yet, but I will,' she assured him. 'Take us that way.'

He seemed puzzled as the location she pointed to was a diversion from their current course. 'That way? Why?'

'You'll see,' she told him, darting back to Sheppard's position and ordering the eyepiece on her headset to rescan for the Asgard tech. With little delicacy, she dug down through the top layers of skin and dragged his implant and a small amount of surrounding tissue out with the tip of her scalpel.

Sheppard did his best not to scream like a little girl, though a little something to numb the skin first would have been nice. He kept it to a manly growl deep in his throat and hoped he didn't pass out.

She peeled the slime chameleon off his arm and jabbed the blade into it, checking she had the implant off the scalpel and inside the slime before popping the hatch and calling to Juroah, 'Take us down lower.'

'They're gaining, Mishta. We'll be in visual range soon. I hope you know what you're doing,' Juroah yelled back to her, his tone laced with mild panic.

'I do. Just trust me.'

Sheppard had already figured out what she was up to. 'Once that thing's out of me, it stops transmitting,' he shouted over the rush of air through the open hatch. 'They won't follow it.'

She flashed him a scowl that told him to shut up, and since he was already bleeding and needed her help to stop it he decided to bite his tongue. 'Juroah, ask the ship to scan for Vanir tech,' she called to the pilot.

He did, picking up the implant in its new position near the hatch on his HUD. 'Like I said, it mimics your biorhythms. Its momentary cessation will have looked like nothing more than a scanner glitch,' she said, flashing him a smug smile before turning her attention to the open hatch.

When she saw something she obviously felt satisfied with, Mishta tossed out the gelatinous lump of flesh and closed the hatch, telling Juroah to deviate back to his initial heading.

Now she returned to the medical box and pulled out something resembling a pen light. When she activated it, it emitted a warm yet invisible energy that sealed the laceration in his arm in just seconds, the pain almost instantly reduced to nothing more than a bruise under pressure.

'I know a couple of people who would love one of those,' he quipped, wiping the smears of blood away and examining her handy work. Mishta just scowled at him, packed away the medical equipment, and returned to Juroah's side.

In silence, they all watched as the blips pursuing them on the HUD continued to track their previous course, obviously following the transponder. Mishta strode back toward Sheppard with a look of triumph on her face. 'It seems all they're concerned about is you, not us. They'll think you're hiding out in the cave system we've just passed over. It's a pity all they'll find is that chip of yours.'

'Yeah…that's a real pity,' he echoed, granting Mishta her moment of victory. 'Nice work.'

She hauled him up from the floor and practically flung him into a seat, positioning herself where she could glare at him from another chair only a few feet away. He met the challenge, unwilling to be intimidated by her. From her appearance, and Juroah's earlier comments, it seemed obvious to Sheppard now that she was at least in some part human. She was taller than any Birajan he'd seen before, she had hair instead of the hard, scale-like platelets covering her head, though he saw hints of small scales along her hairline, and her features were more pronounced than the barely-there noses and small, tight mouths of the other genetics in her breeding. When not scowling, he imagined she could look quite pretty with those fiery waves framing her glowing complexion and iridescent eyes. But scowling she was, so he didn't look at her for too long, eventually breaking the exchange to gaze out of the window at the brightening horizon.

Morning was coming. He hadn't seen a sunrise for six months now, and that thought sent his stomach into a strange, excited flip. Last night, he'd thought he would never see another, but now he was going to get a perfect view as a free man…well, kind of…

After a few more minutes of silent brooding he heard Mishta leave her seat, a glance in her direction telling him she was now busying herself with examining the weapons cache stowed in their backpacks. Did this woman never sit still?

'This was a fruitful trip in more ways than one,' Juroah called back to her, a slight smile lighting up his weathered face.

'It would have been far better had we not been followed,' Mishta grunted, picking up a stunner and turning it over to get a better look at it under the ship's lights. She aimed it in Sheppard's direction. He deliberately didn't flinch.

'You expect too much, Mishta,' her colleague told her. 'It was always going to be a risky operation. The fact we escaped at all is nothing short of miraculous…and in no small part owed to your quick thinking. If you hadn't thought to distract them with that transponder…'

'Uhh, I helped too,' Sheppard now interrupted, keen to remind them of the fact, 'Back at the fortress, remember?'

'I neither asked for nor needed your help, Human!' Mishta immediately barked back, her hackles rising at his blatant attempt to ingratiate himself to them.

Okay, so she wasn't in the mood to share the glory. He supposed he could understand that. He could be magnanimous if the situation called for it. 'You know what…forget I spoke.'

She pursed her lips and glared at him, setting the gun down beside her at last as she examined the others. 'I'm sure I'll have no trouble doing that.'

So, she had a sense of humour after all?

'Here,' Juroah called, turning around to toss something to her. 'Take this and calm yourself, Mishta. If your brother sees you in this disposition, I'll not hear the end of it.'

As she reached out and caught the object, Sheppard could see it was a small vial of green liquid. She unscrewed the lid and tipped it to her lips as if to drink it, but as Juroah returned to his piloting duties she poured the contents out behind a seat, out of his view. Putting the lid back on, she cast Sheppard a look that suggested his life wouldn't be worth living if he said anything about what he'd just seen. Whatever – it was really none of his business anyway.

He kept his mouth shut throughout the rest of the long journey; he didn't want to cause any more trouble than he already had, not for himself or anyone else. He contented himself with watching that long-awaited sunrise, made doubly good by the appearance of the distant second sun a half hour later. He lost himself in thoughts of the others he'd left behind at Phylacos – Ronon, Mehra…and hopefully Teyla and McKay if they'd survived this far. He'd seen neither hide nor hair of them after the first day there, so all he could do was hope they'd hung on somehow and proved themselves useful.

He surfaced back to the here and now as the tone of the engines changed and the craft made what he recognised as manoeuvres that would lead to a landing.

'I estimate the value of these guns to be somewhere in the region of forty thousand credits,' Mishta announced as she began to pack them back into their bags ready to depart the craft.

'Pity we can't hang on to any of them,' Juroah sighed, peering wistfully back over his shoulder at them as she packed the last couple away.

'Why not?' she asked, puzzled.

'If they can track him using the alien tech he had implanted in him, I suspect they will be able to trace anyone using weapons with a Wraith energy signature. We will have to sell them all on quickly and free up the resources we need to fund our plan.'

She nodded. 'We can take them to Archellic at the weapons market. He's always looking for rare munitions, although he drives a hard bargain…'

'Their true value is meaningless, as long as we get the funds we need. Marmotah barters well –we should get him involved in the negotiations,'

Sheppard couldn't help but notice the slight eye-roll that suggestion earned.

'But all that will come to nothing if Akalus gets his hands on this one,' Juroah continued. 'Protecting him has to be our priority.'

Mishta glared at Sheppard as if she resented having to give him any of her attention. To be honest, he hadn't expected to hear that. Why would these two want to protect him? He understood the motivation for the Reliquiae, but why was he important to these people…or to Akalus? 'Okay, I'm confused,' he admitted, voicing his question. 'Why does Akalus want me? He has a prison full of humans, what makes me so special?'

Mishta and Juroah exchanged a puzzled glance. 'He doesn't know,' Juroah said, apparently surprised to find their charge so naïve.

'At least, he pretends not to,' she challenged.

Sheppard resisted the urge to get pulled into an argument, waiting instead for clarification that was not forthcoming. So, he asked, 'Know what, exactly?'

'Goronak will explain it all to you, if he sees fit,' Juroah stated, gathering one of the heavy packs up onto his back. The weight of it bent him over almost double.

'Do you need a hand with that?' Sheppard offered, hopping out of his seat.

'So that you can run away with them and buy your freedom? I don't think so,' Mishta sneered, pushing him aside and helping the older Birajan to lift the pack fully onto his back.

'I wasn't going to –'

'I can manage, Human,' Juroah said kindly. 'Though I am grateful for the offer.' It was as close as Sheppard had heard any Birajan come to gratitude and he accepted the thanks with a dip of his head and a cautious glance in Mishta's direction.

Clearly annoyed that Juroah had scuppered her attempts to start another fight with him, Mishta settled her own pack into a comfortable position, then drew her gun on him. 'We'll go to see Goronak now and find out if _he_ feels as charitable toward you.' She grasped his arm, tugging him hard in the direction of the exit hatch.

This time, Sheppard allowed his annoyance to override his desire not to ignite her temper, and he pulled himself free. 'You know, if you want me to move, you could just ask.'

A second later he was looking down the barrel of her gun. 'Get off the ship… _please_ ,' she said, that last word drawn out to just about the most aggravating length of time she could possibly have managed.

'Let him be, Mishta,' Juroah warned, pushing the barrel away from him. 'He's hardly likely to run away. Where would he run to? The planet is unfamiliar to him, and there are so many who would wish to make gain from him that he wouldn't remain free for long.'

Although the comment was supposedly supportive, Sheppard had the distinct impression Juroah also intended it to serve as a warning, a friendly nudge to let him know he would be no better off in the hands of anyone else, so would be wise not to attempt an escape.

With an exaggerated huff, Mishta opened the hatch and gestured for Sheppard to depart first, keeping him at the business end of her gun the whole time. Juroah might be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Sheppard got the impression he wouldn't win this female over so easily. For some reason she didn't like him, and he doubted the puppy dog eyes or charming smiles he usually employed to gain people's trust would work on her. This one was cynical beyond her years. He might actually have to use his brains to figure this one out.

Before he could respond to her instruction her colleague caught hold of his other arm. 'Hands behind your back, please,' Juroah told him, setting himself squarely in front of him. Sheppard did as he was asked and turned so his back was facing Juroah. The Birajan clamped two halves of a set of magnetic restraints around Sheppard's wrists, one at a time, holding them firmly together. 'Now, there will definitely be no temptation for you to go wandering,' he said, tugging on them to ensure the magnetic attraction was working. There was no budging them. They dug slightly into his skin, ensuring he didn't attempt to free his hands. Simple and effective…unfortunately.

Mishta scrutinised him closely again as he passed her and exited the vessel, making no attempt to hide her suspicion of the stranger they were about to take into their home. Sheppard met her gaze silently, determined not to look submissive. Before illness and imprisonment had ravaged his body, he'd dealt with a lot worse than this Mishta character was likely to throw at him. He wasn't about to let her gain the psychological edge on him so early in their dealings. He would stand up for himself, and she would learn to trust him…if he chose to hang around that long…and she didn't shoot him first.

With his health now restored, Sheppard felt his zest for life and all its challenges returning. And he had a promise to keep to Teyla, one he intended to fulfil just as soon as circumstances allowed.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks again to those keeping the reviews coming. Feedback makes the work worthwhile. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Mehra's vehemence turned on Geeja the moment she stepped through the door. The tiny female sang to herself and had a distinct skip in her step as she entered, as if everything was right with the world. Evidently, Geeja enjoyed working in Phylacos far more than was appropriate, and travelling the corridors full of sobbing, screaming humans had inflicted absolutely no effect on her good humour as she'd journeyed to the cell. It wasn't normal to be so unmoved by their plight. Mehra knew right then she'd been on the money about the grimy little runt; no matter how convinced Sheppard had been by her sweet little girl act, this one was in cahoots with the enemy, no doubt about it.

'What the hell are _you_ doing here? Come to gloat some more?' she growled, slowly rising to her feet.

'I not know what you mean,' the girl purred, giving her a venomous smile. 'How you get on with new company?'

'I would have preferred Sheppard to still be around…' she glanced Liam's way, '…no offence.'

He shrugged his indifference. 'None taken.' She doubted he was happy to be here either.

Geeja grinned at him, then at Mehra too. 'You be in the labs later. They take samples…very painful.'

'And this makes you happy…why?' Mehra demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

Geeja's face clouded, and she got right up in front of Mehra, her tiny frame exuding pure hatred that had no place in someone so young. 'You let them take John. You should have taken better care of him.'

Confused, Mehra just blinked back at her, trying to unravel the machinations of this child's mind. ' _I_ let them take Sheppard? _You_ were the one that wanted those…those things to come here. You said they could save him, not kidnap him.'

'Er…what's going on here?' Liam interrupted. 'I thought this Sheppard bloke died or something…what really happened?'

Mehra honestly didn't blame the kid for asking so many questions, but she wasn't in the mood for answering them right now. 'Stay out of this,' she ordered, leaning over Geeja to force her to back off. 'So, this wasn't part of the plan, huh? What did you have in mind?'

'I don't answer to you,' Geeja growled.

The floor beneath them began to tremble, breaking the exchange as Mehra was forced to steady herself to ensure she didn't fall.

Geeja started backing toward the door, now grinning that cruel smile again. 'Akalus is angry that you let him down. You will pay for failing him.'

'Over my dead body!' Mehra spat, following her, seriously considering making a lunge for the girl and smacking that smile off of her face.

'Don't tempt him,' Geeja warned as the door allowed her exit and then slid rapidly shut behind her. 'He can make life here very difficult for you.'

'Yeah, 'cos it's been a beach so far!' Mehra yelled after her as she withdrew and disappeared along the murky corridor.

'Your life holds little worth. You would not be much of a loss,' Geeja's voice echoed from the darkness.

Now that sounded like a threat. Mehra did not like being threatened. Storming away from the door, she mumbled, 'Nasty little bitch…' as she threw herself down on her mattress and went over the exchange in her mind. That crazy witch blamed her for Sheppard going missing? Why did it matter to her that he wasn't here anymore? Sheppard had obvious charm, but she didn't get the feeling this was a crush thing. She had to be angry because Akalus was angry, which fit into her theory that Geeja was working with, rather than for, the enemy.

'What was all that about?' Liam asked, somewhat sheepishly from the shadows.

'Not sure,' Mehra murmured. 'But one thing I am sure of…the next time those bug guys come in here to take me to the lab…they're gonna get more than they bargained for.'

'You mean…you're going to fight them?' Liam asked. There was no mistaking the quake in his voice.

'Damn right I am!' she grunted, pissed as all hell that Geeja was making her take the blame for her mistake. Well, no way were they dicing and slicing her as a punishment. Sheppard might not have been able to fight his way out of there, but she was still going to give it her best shot. And then she remembered that Sheppard had told her not to do anything stupid. Did this qualify as stupid? Maybe, but it was driven by self-preservation. If she was ever going to get out of here, she had to stay in one piece.

'I saw someone fight back down in the mines once,' Liam told her tentatively, as if he expected her to blow up at the mention of it. When she didn't say anything, he continued. 'He was a big guy, built like a brick…' he hesitated and seemed to reconsider his choice of words, '…let's just say he was well built. Apparently, he wasn't used to taking orders, so a couple of days after he arrived he decided he didn't what to start mining when those bug people told him to…'

There was a long, drawn-out pause, one punctuated only by his single, shuddering breath.

'They beat him until he stopped yelling at them…stopped moving at all. Then they took him away. We…' Another pause, another shaky breath. 'We never saw him again.'

She knew he was trying to help, and for a few seconds she found herself considering whether she should just put up and shut up. But then she thought about Sheppard, and the state he had been reduced to by the crazy shit these bastards had done to him over the past six months. No way was she going to let them take her apart one piece at a time until there was nothing left to save. She would rather die while she was still healthy enough to put up a fight than slowly ebb away here in the bowels of this prison.

'Thanks for the warning,' she replied, thumping at her mattress before laying back on it, hands clasped behind her head as she stared up at the dark, damp ceiling. 'You're free to roll over and let 'em kick you as hard as you want, but the next time they come in here, I'm gonna show 'em just what we humans are made of. Just don't get in the way.'

Which was quite possible one hundred percent stupidity, judging by the look her cellmate gave her. But as far as she was concerned this place was poison, and she wasn't prepared to spend one more toxic day growing weaker and more subservient until all hope of escape was lost. She wanted out, and she was going to get it…dead or alive.

oooOOOooo

After hiding out on the higher levels of Phylacos for the night, Ronon now made his way tentatively down through the dim and damp passageways, back toward the mines.

Of course, the final leg of the trip down into the pit in which he had spent the last six months labouring was carried out via an elevator, and the elevator would draw unwanted attention since it only ever moved to carry prisoners to and from the mines themselves and was always guarded at the lower level. So, what was he supposed to do?

Ronon found himself wishing Sheppard was there. He was always the sharp thinker when it came to quickly devised strategies. Not that Ronon was dumb; he doubted he would have survived all his years as a runner if he wasn't pretty smart. He could fight, set traps – revenge was his speciality. But this required something different. He needed a definite plan.

A noise had him ducking for cover before he could give it another thought, a low rumbling like a vehicular movement – perhaps the food truck, though it didn't come into sight despite the increasing noise level. A concealed door sunk a few inches back with a heavy clunking, then slid aside to reveal a doorway through which two of the bug guards emerged. He watched from his hiding place as they screeched their weird form of conversation and stalked away down the passage.

As soon as he thought they were far away not to hear him behind them he darted out and crossed to the door, trying to figure out it's mechanisms before it fully closed again. But seconds later it was gone, invisible now even though he knew exactly where it sat.

Sliding his hands all over the wall, Ronon was unable to locate any kind of button or lever that might activate the doorway again. He needed to know what lay beyond that door. There had definitely been a noise to herald its arrival. A noise he now realised was reminiscent of the elevator he'd travelled up in the day before. If it was an elevator just for the Kheprians, that might prove useful. But no matter how useful it might be, he couldn't use it if he couldn't find a way in.

He was going to have to be patient…not his strongest quality.

So, he returned to his hiding place, gripping on tight to his weapon, and poised ready to pounce on the very first opportunity that came his way.

oooOOOooo

Prince Valkalar lounged in his luxurious abode, feet up on an upholstered footstool as he looked at the picture of the beautiful human woman he had downloaded from Akalus' database. Inside, he still raged at the injustice of Akalus threatening someone of his stature. No one had ever dared to speak to him that way.

No one.

He was a prince. He deserved respect. How dare that low-life skin trader talk to him that way? Didn't Akalus know who he was?

He needed that human. He wanted that human. Just looking at her image aroused feelings in him he could barely control, and that excited him. He didn't want to control them. He wanted them to run riot and course through his body, giving him pleasurable thrills he'd never experienced before. This was all new to him, and although he didn't fully understand it, he liked what he felt. Life in his palace could be dull and routine. The thought of having such a beautiful and rare creature in his possession excited him even more than his position of power in the Rammarant tribe. At first, his only interest in her had been the Wraith genes hidden within her human DNA, but the more he looked at her picture, the more a deeper, more gnawing interest awoke in him. He'd seen many humans while hacking Akalus' database, but she was utterly…enchanting. Yes, that was it. He felt as though he had fallen under a spell.

It would no doubt be a struggle for her to accept him at first, but if he showed her kindness, she would begin to appreciate what he had to offer her. If that failed, he could always resort to threats.

There had to be a way of getting that woman out of Phylacos and into his home. He turned from his computer link to the ancient tomes lying on the floor around him. The answers lay within the pages of those books, he felt certain of it. He would find a way to get beyond the walls of Phylacos and take what Akalus had denied him. That would teach him to make a fool of him. That man might have convinced himself and the Birajan race that he was something special, but Valkalar wasn't buying into it for a moment. Those scriptures were just the ramblings of an insane mind. They held no true worth in this day and age.

He picked up a huge journal, a catalogue of the various ancient artefacts and technologies that had been collected by his tribe over the decades, blowing dust from its cover before opening it up to leaf through the contents. There were dozens of books of a similar weight and volume strewn about him, and if he had to, he would study every one of them to find what he was looking for. He needed that girl, he wanted her, and nothing would stop him possessing her, certainly not some female with delusions of grandeur. He poured himself a glass of his finest Rammarant vestaga as he settled back in his chair to scan the pages of his vast book. This would take a while, it might be best to make some arrangements before becoming too engrossed in his task. He pushed a button on the wrist pilot he wore, the control to everything in his home.

Only a few moments later, his attendant opened the door and waited for his orders.

'Tamrak, I am going to be busy for the foreseeable future, so be sure I am not disturbed. Oh, and I will need food. Lots of it. See to it that I am brought meals on a regular basis.'

'Is this work anything I can help you with, my Prince?' Tamrak offered.

'This is far too complex a task for such as you,' Valkalar snorted, eyeing his little assistant up and down. 'It requires intelligence and concentration…the attentions of a mind of far greater capacity than yours. But you can be helpful by carrying out my instructions. I expect nothing more nor less from you.' Tamrak dipped his head respectfully, and headed for the door again. 'Oh, and get me another flagon of this,' Valkalar said, waving the half-empty vessel of vestaga at him. 'I am sure to work up quite a thirst.'

'Of course, Prince,' Tamrak said, dipping his head once again as he backed out of the room.

Superiority re-established, Valkalar settled down to begin his work in earnest…with the assistance of another generous sip of his favourite beverage.

oooOOOooo

As Mishta led Sheppard into the rebel camp, he instantly attracted the attention of the females gathered around the fire preparing breakfast. The meal abandoned, they left the fireside to take a closer look at the strange creature being brought into their midst. Although humans were common within the walls of Phylacos, it occurred to him that they were obviously not seen walking the plains so freely. It seemed like the cooking would have to wait until their curiosity was sated. A glance at the hybrid holding onto him told him she didn't care much for the interest he was garnering, the tightening grip on his arm and her deepening scowl warning him not to do anything he didn't have her explicit permission to do or there would be hell to pay.

Juroah tried to steer him through the womenfolk without too much fuss, telling them all to move aside and let them get to this Goronak he'd heard them mention on the flight. But despite his polite yet firm requests, they were all keen to have their moment with the new arrival, who had sent them into a flurry of activity and excited jabbering.

Sheppard let them prod and poke at him without complaint. Some stroked the soft hairs covering his forearms, others rubbed his clothing between their fingers, sampling the textures of the fabrics. A few even strained up to ruffle his hair and touch the smooth skin of his face and neck. Despite his usual reservations about physical contact, this didn't seem invasive; their interest was almost childlike, like youngsters petting an animal. These Birajans were rough skinned and scaled, and had no apparent body hair at all. He had to look pretty weird to them, even if they did have the hybrid currently shoving the barrel of a gun into his ribs living amongst them. Though she had many human qualities, she was far from a full human being. Perhaps these females had never seen a real human being before. Seeing a new species for the first time would be enough to pique anyone's interest.

Mishta allowed the females to examine him for a while longer, then grew impatient with them, pushing them all back and ordering them to let them through. Yet some brave souls persisted, their curiosity apparently stronger than their fear of Mishta's wrath.

Juroah stepped in before it became more violent. 'Come now, ladies. The food will spoil and we're hungry after our adventures. Leave the human be.'

At his polite intervention, they reluctantly backed off and returned to their work, leaving Juroah and Mishta free to lead Sheppard on to the largest shelter in the clearing, one that looked to be more designed for gatherings than the other smaller, ramshackle constructions littered about the site.

'Wait here with him, Mishta,' Juroah instructed, as he pulled back the heavy fabric covering the entrance. 'I'll make sure they're ready to receive us.'

'Ready to receive us? Why would they not be? We've brought them the human,' she scoffed, trying to push past him and enter.

'Just do as I say,' he replied, placing a calming hand on the front of her shoulder, halting her progress. 'You'll have their praise soon enough.'

She stepped back, looking disappointed that he would think that of her. 'I'm not interested in praise. I only want to bring Akalus' hold over our people to an end.'

'Be patient,' he said, giving her shoulder a pat now that the resistance had left her. 'That time will come.' He disappeared into the tent, leaving them to wait outside for his return.

Mishta immediately spun on Sheppard, her eyes ablaze with barely repressed anger. Whether it was anger at him or something else that caused it, he wasn't sure, but he had the feeling she would make him bear the brunt of it. Unlike the Birajan females at the campfire, this hybrid handled him with unconditional malice, and since he had no idea why, he had yet to figure out how to change that.

Roughly grappling him, she turned him around so she could check his restraints. They still held fast…he knew because he'd already tested them several times himself.

'Mishta. I see your trip was successful,' someone behind them called to her. Sheppard peered over his shoulder to see another hybrid striding across the camp to greet her, a male this time. Her brother, perhaps. There was certainly a resemblance other than their shared genetic mix.

Sheppard sensed Mishta's choler rising again at this male's approach. Happy to have someone to share her bad mood, Sheppard turned around and offered him a smile, one this male returned with a warm grin of his own. That was promising.

'I suppose you're surprised, considering you thought me unfit for the mission,' she sneered, her pose changing to a somehow challenging slouch.

'I never doubted you,' he beamed, pulling her into a hug while she went stiff, arms rigid at her sides. Clearly hugs were not her thing. Well, at least that was something they had in common, Sheppard mused.

This male turned now to Sheppard. Unlike Mishta, this one's eyes were kind and welcoming, their violet depths sparkling with warmth. He held out his hand in a surprisingly human gesture of greeting, patting his chest and announcing, 'Lansha,' by way of an introduction. It was more than Mishta or Juroah had managed so far.

Sheppard looked down at Lansha's extended hand, but was unable to take it. He turned just enough for him to see the cuffs.

'Why is he restrained like that?' Lansha asked, immediately deactivating the shackles and freeing his arms. Sheppard rubbed his wrists, grateful to be rid of them, all the time ignoring the mounting fury building in his warden.

'Juroah wanted him cuffed to be sure he didn't escape on the way back from the landing strip,' Mishta growled, snatching the cuffs back and moving as if to put them on him again.

Lansha positioned himself between the two of them, shielding Sheppard from her attempts to restrain him. 'He's not an animal to be controlled. He's an intelligent being; I'm sure he knows running away in a strange world would be futile.'

Sheppard arched an eyebrow at Mishta as he looked around the male at her. She merely scowled in return. 'You give him too much credit,' she spat.

'Hey! I'm right here, you know. I _can_ hear you,' Sheppard snapped.

'And I should care?' was all she said in response.

'He understands everything we say?' Lansha gasped as he turned around to look at him, his expression suggesting he thought this to be some kind of mystical ability.

Mishta rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of Sheppard's hair, steering his head into a position where Lansha could see the translation unit in his ear. 'Don't be so amazed, Brother. There is a simple explanation.'

The flap at the tent entrance lifted, and Juroah's head poked out. 'Good morning, Lansha. I thought I heard your voice.'

'I see it is, Juroah. You did well to retrieve this one so easily,' he chirped back.

'I can't say it was easy, perhaps just easier than we'd anticipated,' Juroah replied, stepping out to join their little group. 'Mind you, it wasn't without its fraught mome—'

Once again, Mishta gave a petulant roll of her eyes. 'Are we allowed in yet?' she interrupted.

'Of course,' Juroah replied, then he noticed Sheppard's hands were free. 'Why have you taken off his cuffs?'

'Ask him,' she grunted, nodding her head in Lansha's direction as she grabbed Sheppard's arm and pulled him toward the opening. She jabbed the barrel of her gun hard against his ribs again. 'Don't try anything or I'll shoot you where you stand, Human.'

He didn't doubt she would.

'Do you want to join us, Lansha?' Juroah asked brightly, holding back the door covering. 'We bring news that will be of great interest to you.'

'Then, I will - if only to annoy my sister,' he grinned, ducking down to enter.

Inside, the lighting was subdued, the thick, waxed-canvas type material of the tent itself blocking out any daylight as soon as Juroah dropped the entrance flap back into place. Two oil-glowing lamps hanging from the framework provided the only illumination, and that was sent swinging wildly when Sheppard bumped his head on one of them as he entered. Mishta reached up to steady it, giving him an undeservedly filthy look. It wasn't as if he'd done it on purpose. This place was too small for him to stand at his full height. Even she had to crouch a little to avoid scraping her head on the roof canvas.

The low ceiling and poor light made Sheppard feel instantly claustrophobic. It was all too reminiscent of his Phylacos cell, and he found himself battling with the urge to run for the door. The fact Mishta still held her gun on him was a strong deterrent, though. He didn't want to give her the excuse to shoot him he suspected she was desperately waiting for.

Once he became accustomed to the oppressive gloom, he noticed that four Birajans, three male and one female, lurked in the shadows therein. As Juroah nudged him further forward, they came into clearer focus. He judged from the lines on their faces that they were older than most he'd seen, so perhaps they were the equivalent of village elders. They all stood up from their cushion seats as Mishta encouraged him onward at gunpoint.

One stepped toward him, regarding him closely. 'We welcome you, Human. You must be weary after your difficult experiences. Please, sit.'

 _Difficult experiences?_ he thought as they all seated themselves before him. _That's a polite way of putting it!_ 'Yeah…yeah, I am. Thanks.'

Mishta gestured to the floor with her ever-present weapon. Once he had seated himself, she and her two companions arranged themselves bedside him. Through all of that, Mishta never lowered her weapon and never took her eyes off him. Sheppard began to wonder if all the hostility was an attempt to control him, or because she was afraid of him. There really was no need to keep the gun trained on him the whole time unless she felt he posed a significant threat. That thought gave his ego a boost since he felt like he could snap in a stiff breeze right now.

And, apparently, he wasn't the only one questioning her behaviour. 'The gun is no longer necessary,' Goronak told her, with a dismissive gesture. 'You may put it away now, Mishta.'

'I would prefer to keep it to hand,' she replied, her only concession being to lower it a little.

No one challenged her on that point. It seemed as if they knew it would be futile.

Sheppard surveyed the gun, his eyes eventually wandering up to meet those of its owner, who still glowered right back at him. But there was something in those eyes, something behind the look she gave him, that troubled him more than the fact she was armed. He didn't know why, but he felt certain now that her aggression toward him masked something else – something no one was saying out loud.

As if to prove him right, her expression changed briefly. She looked curious, then troubled before it shifted right back to angry in less than a second. But the change had been there to see. He was sure that her ferocity was only a facade to hide her fear. But fear of what?

'So…your mission was obviously a great success,' Goronak said, addressing Juroah and his female charge.

'Not entirely,' Juroah conceded. 'Although we were able to remove the human from the fortress with relative ease, our escape did not go unnoticed. We believe we threw the Reliquiae off the scent – thanks to some quick thinking from Mishta.'

'Well, done, Mishta,' Goronak smiled, bowing his head to her. 'At least now we have half of Akalus' true power in our hands. Of course, we now have to ensure it doesn't return to him before the next few months are out, or before we can make good on our plan.'

It took a moment or two for Sheppard to realise they were talking about him. He looked around at their worried faces, wondering what the hell they knew that he didn't. 'Uh, anyone wanna clue me in on what's happening here?'

Ignoring him, the conversation went on. 'We've brought something back that might help with those plans,' Juroah said, opening up his backpack and tipping it up, scattering the Wraith weapons all over the floor. After a nudge of encouragement, Mishta finally holstered her weapon and did the same.

The Founders watched in amazement as guns spilled out, at least a dozen of them. Sheppard mused that he wouldn't mind getting his hands on one of them himself.

After a few moments of stunned silence, the female Founder managed to ask, 'You stole all these?'

'From the Reliquiae, yes,' Juroah replied, nodding.

'How?'

'We were attacked by two who carried a box filled with weapons. We silenced them, but thought these might come in useful to raise funds for the materials we need for Lansha's plan.'

'This will more than pay for them. This will fund that operation and many of our other needs until the time comes for Akalus to act,' Goronak breathed, reaching out to pick up a gun with a trembling hand, as if he feared they might not be real. 'But the fact they are moving so many weapons at once has me worried.' The male's pale, watery, lilac eyes lifted to meet Sheppard's. 'What did you tell them, Human?'

'Nothing,' Sheppard assured him. 'They said something about needing to find Atlantis, but I didn't tell them anything…in fact, they said a lot of things that didn't make much sense,' he added. 'They told me they were once the Wraith…that my people changed them. But we haven't done anything like that to them…yet.'

' _Your_ people?'

He could feel the utter fury tensing every muscle in Mishta's body as she said that. 'Yeah…but like I said…we haven't done anything to change the Wraith. I'm not saying we don't have something like that in the pipeline, but –'

Lansha's arm shot out and grasped his sister's wrist just as she attempted to reach for her gun again. 'Mishta…let it be.'

He could see she was actually trembling with anger as she tried to snatch her arm free. 'You heard him…you heard what he said. His people made the Reliquiae!'

'Actually, I said we _hadn't_ done it,' Sheppard was quick to point out, noticing the skin of Lansha's knuckles blanching from the firmness of the grip he retained on his sister's weapon arm. Despite her brother's grasp on her, her violet eyes remained fixed on him, speaking volumes of the harm she would like to rain down on him.

'Let us not become distracted,' Goronak announced loudly, calling the meeting to order again. 'The fact is, we have managed to seriously damage Akalus' plans, and these weapons will bring us a great deal of money with which to deal his supposed destiny its deathblow.' He looked at Sheppard again now, a glint of excitement lighting his pallid eyes. 'You have brought us luck, Human. We will be sure to keep you close at hand in the hope you continue to do so.'

That was apparently one nicety too far for Mishta. 'He's a curse. We'd have been better off if he'd never been born,' she growled, still held under her brother's firm restraint.

'Mishta, hold your tongue. It's not the human's fault this is happening. He is an innocent in all this,' Lansha scolded, a comment that earned a rumble of agreement from the others gathered there.

Her eyes grew wide. 'How can you say that after what he has just admitted?'

Patience tested to its limit, Sheppard finally snapped. 'I didn't admit anything! Now will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on here?'

Suddenly silenced by his outburst, the Birajans and hybrids all looked to each other for a decision. Mishta was, unsurprisingly, the first to offer her opinion. 'We shouldn't tell him. There's no way to know yet if he is as innocent as he would have us believe.'

'So, you're saying you don't trust me? That's a shocker,' Sheppard laughed. But he couldn't help but flinch when she launched at him, only Lansha's continuing hold on her wrist preventing her from reaching him.

'You would be wise to show me more respect,' she growled. 'We hold your life in our hands, Human.'

'Respect isn't something you demand, it has to be earned,' Sheppard fired back at her.

To his surprise, that seemed to knock the wind out of her sails. He noticed Lansha was grinning again.

'That's exactly what our father used to tell us,' he explained, finally extracting the gun from his sister's hand as she stared at Sheppard, dumbfounded. 'You have to earn respect, Mishta. From what I have seen of the way you treat this human, you are far from deserving of it.'

'Hey, much as I appreciate the support, I do have a name, you know,' Sheppard replied. He'd been called little else but 'Human' for thirteen months, and he wanted to feel like an individual again.

'We're sorry, Human,' Goronak said on behalf of them all. 'Please…share it with us.'

He stood up, wiped his slightly clammy palms on his trousers, then extended his right hand toward Goronak. 'John Sheppard.'

The group fell instantly and ominously silent. Even Mishta appeared to be at a loss for words. What little bravado he'd mustered up rapidly evaporated. 'What did I say?' Sheppard asked, a little more quietly.

'Set the perimeters,' Goronak ordered. 'No one enters or leaves this camp again without the express permission of the Founders. We need to discuss this further…without the human present.'

Had the mere mention of his name caused this reaction? What, until then, had been a reservedly friendly atmosphere had suddenly transformed into what felt like little more than controlled panic.

'What would you like us to do with the human?' Mishta asked as she stood and caught hold of his arm once again, hauling him to his feet.

'Lansha, will you take him to your shelter? He'll feel more comfortable with you than any of the rest of us, I'm certain,' Goronak asked.

'Of course; it will be my pleasure.' He threw Mishta a look that suggested she should let go of Sheppard. She seemed hesitant to do so, but backed down under the strength of her brother's glare.

Lansha helped Sheppard from the tent to allow the discussions between his sister, Juroah, and the Founders to continue. The females of the camp immediately saw them emerge. They'd obviously been watching the tent, waiting for him to show himself again. They hurried over and took hold of Sheppard's hands, leading him over to the fire beside which breakfast sweet breads were cooling.

Unlike his sister, Lansha happily allowed them to take over the care of the human for a short time. The Birajan women made Sheppard comfortable on an animal skin rug and gave him the biggest plateful of food he'd seen for many months, maybe even long before that. Of course, Sheppard was much bigger than most people they served breakfast to, so they could be forgiven for over estimating his appetite. They no doubt thought it would make up for his time in Phylacos, where good food was non-existent, and even the bad food was in short supply.

He felt somewhat overwhelmed by the abundance of fare and attention, but in a good way. Glancing around for Lansha, he saw him hanging back, allowing him to be the centre of their focus for the time being. The hybrid smiled openly, an expression so different to his sister's that it was hard to believe the two could have grown up together and shared a familial bond. He wondered briefly what made Mishta so angry, before deciding he was too tired to care right now. That was a mystery to be unravelled some other time.

Although Sheppard certainly enjoyed the food and friendship, the conversation with Goronak and their reaction to his name had him worried now.

He suspected his life might be about to get very complicated, as if it weren't complicated enough already...

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for sticking with the story. Hope you enjoy the update! :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

After spending a strange day in the rebel camp, Sheppard took a bed in Lansha's tent for the night to catch up on some much-needed rest. For the first time in at least four months he slept comparatively well through the night without illness leaving him sick, pained, and exhausted. It was not without its nightmares, though, filled with pain and hunger and the sounds of the suffering of others. Intermittently, he woke imagining he was in his cell, but once his eyes adjusted to the dull illumination of the dimmed lamps, he realised that wasn't the case. He was safe…kind of. At least safer than he'd ever felt at Phylacos. That realisation accepted, he would quickly settle again and drift back off into fitful slumbers.

By the time the primary sun rose, its rays breaking in through a slight chink in the tent's door coverings, he felt adequately rested, but still troubled.

Lansha, too, stirred now, turning over toward him and blinking himself into full consciousness. Seeing Sheppard awake, he sat up quickly. 'Did you sleep well, Human?' he asked cheerfully, rubbing his eyes.

'I guess,' Sheppard replied, but a sense of sadness weighed heavily on him. He doubted the friends he'd left behind in Phylacos had fared so well.

'Did you suffer nightmares?'

Sheppard hadn't expected such a direct question, but he didn't see any point in lying. 'Yeah…a few,' he admitted.

His companion nodded his understanding. 'My father often had terrible nightmares after his escape from Phylacos. It's a soul-destroying place, I hear.'

'So, your father was human?' He knew that already after the mishap on the journey back from the Reliquiae's fortress, but this Lansha seemed more likely to indulge him in conversation than his sister had, so he decided to show an interest.

'Yes,' Lansha nodded, smirking in an odd manner. 'But he didn't look much like you.'

Sheppard quirked an eyebrow, now curious as to what exactly his father had looked like. 'Well…we come in all shapes and sizes.'

'You're only the second human I've ever seen up close, so I must trust you on that.' Lansha got up and pulled out a bag from under his bed, rummaging until he found something that resembled an iPad Mini. He touched the screen a few times, then turned it toward Sheppard. It showed a picture of a walrus of a man – large round belly, bushy moustache and side burns, smoothed down hair and wearing what had to be clothes handmade for him by someone local. He looked straight out of the eighteen-hundreds, but Sheppard put that down to a little eccentricity. The guy was entitled to that if he'd spent any great length of time in the cells of Akalus' compound. In fact, he imagined eccentricity might be somewhat of a euphemism for how the man could have been. He took the offered device and examined the picture a little closer. The resemblance to Lansha was vague, but he could see it in the shape of his nose and lips, perhaps more so than was obvious in Mishta.

'He described himself as a bear of a man,' Lansha said, smiling fondly. 'He was strict with us as children, but he was fun at times, too.' The smile slipped a little. 'I miss him.'

'Yeah…I get that.' Sheppard passed the picture back. 'I lost my mom when I was pretty young. You never really stop missing them…it just hurts a little less over time.'

'Very true,' Lansha agreed, taking the picture back and giving it one last lingering look before switching it off and putting it away again. 'What was she like?' Sheppard's attention drifted, his mind wandering away from their conversation despite Lansha's best efforts to engage him. 'Is there something else on your mind, Human?' the hybrid asked, picking up on his distraction.

'I left someone behind in Phylacos. Several someones, in fact. But this one…,' he shook his head and sighed, remembering the fear in Teyla's eyes as she was dragged away by the Kheprians and he had yelled his vow to her. 'I promised I'd get her home to her son. He's not much more than a baby. I don't want him to have to grow up without a mom, too.'

Lansha didn't speak straight away, and Sheppard couldn't help but notice the slightly queasy expression he now wore. 'You must try to forget about her for now. You could drive yourself mad thinking about things you can't change,' he muttered, busying himself with returning the picture to its hiding place rather than looking at him.

It seemed an oddly cold response bearing in mind their previous conversation. 'But I _can_ change it. We could get in there and get her out…my other friends, too.'

Lansha rose, patting the air as if to calm him down. 'Hold on there, Human. We can't go running back into Phylacos right now. After the Reliquiae incident, everyone will be on high alert. You must be patient. Trying anything now would be utter foolishness.'

Guilt was written all over Lansha's humanoid features, and he again averted his violet eyes, unable to meet the determined gaze Sheppard was pinning him with. Sheppard couldn't understand why Lansha was being so defeatist about the whole idea. He looked welcoming, even spoke to him like a friend, the human aspects of his features encouraging Sheppard to trust him although he barely knew him. Lansha gave a deep sigh, and lifted his head, about to open up to him about something when the entrance flap drew back and Mishta stepped inside. Strange how that same mixture of features looked so different on her. All thoughts of wishing her a good morning dried up in Sheppard's throat before he could voice the greeting.

'Good morning,' Lansha called to her. 'Is breakfast ready?'

'Not yet,' she said, her eyes fixed firmly on Sheppard.

Lansha cast a glance his way, fighting back a smirk. 'Then, you've come to check on the welfare of our guest,' he deduced, a playful glint in his eye.

Her reaction was flat and to the point. 'I thought I should ensure he hadn't killed you in your sleep.'

'And yet you waited until now to worry about that? Thank you for your concern, but as you can see we're both well,' Lansha laughed, pulling out a clean shirt from another bag beneath his bed and changing into it. In those few seconds he was uncovered, Sheppard spotted the hints of scales running down the length of his spine. A remnant of his Birajan genetics. 'Sorry to disappoint you, sister.'

Mishta's gaze still didn't waiver. Sheppard tried his best to ignore her attempts at intimidation, occupying himself with lacing up his boots instead. The woman obviously had a problem with him, but since she didn't seem to care to discuss it like a rational person, he couldn't be bothered to worry.

'Goronak says we have to take the Wraith weaponry to market today to sell it on,' she announced, matter-of-fact. 'He doesn't want them used at all in the camp in case the Reliquiae are able to trace the energy signature. Juroah feels the same.'

'That makes sense,' Lansha agreed, nodding. 'I know a Japhalan weapons dealer who would be very interested in them. No doubt he will take them off our hands for the right price.'

'Marmotah apparently knows someone over at Heelaf. He's going to take us to him. Goronak also wants us to take the human with us to the Greetak Caves once we're done there.'

The pause in conversation made Sheppard look up in time to notice Lansha's eyebrow twitch up at that announcement. 'Really? Does he believe we have the wrong human?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. But he says if he _is_ the right human, it will send Akalus a sign he's still alive.'

'Did no one actually hear me say my name yesterday?' Sheppard asked, knowing full well that they had. 'Why are you all still calling me 'Human'? And what do you mean, _the right human_?'

His two companions fell instantly silent. Neither of them appeared to want to answer that question.

'Is anyone going to tell me what's going on here?' he asked more insistently.

Lansha pulled on his coat and boots, then sat back and gave him a serious look. 'That's for Goronak to decide. Until we have his permission, none of us are allowed to give you any information you may be able to use to complete your role in Akalus' plans.'

That piqued his interest even more. 'My role? What makes you think I have one?'

'Well done, Lansha. You've already managed to tell him something he didn't know until now,' Mishta sneered triumphantly, slouching against the support post as she folded her arms and glared at him over them.

Lansha looked sheepish, apparently realising that _had_ been a foolish thing to say. 'I have to collect some wood to stoke up the cooking fire this morning. Would you like to come with me, Human?' he asked, changing the subject.

Sheppard sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with these people. They were never going to call him by his name. 'Actually, I'd like to freshen up. Is there anywhere I can do that?' he asked

'I can get you a basin of water,' Lansha offered.

'It's gonna take more than a basin of water to make me feel clean after last night's nightmares.' He pulled his t-shirt away from his skin, demonstrating just how sticky with sweat he was.

'Oh, right. Well, if you wish to bathe, we do that in the river,' Lansha explained. 'We can only transport so much water to the camp each day, I'm afraid. I'll ask permission for you to leave the site, and we can walk together. I can go that way to collect wood anyway.'

He ducked out of the tent, leaving Sheppard alone with Mishta. She peered at him through narrowed eyes. Apparently, her suspicion of him wasn't waning any yet.

'I wouldn't expect Goronak to agree to your request,' she told him, breaking the awkward silence.

Deciding not to rise to her baiting, Sheppard simply replied, 'Your brother obviously thinks it's worth a try.'

'Lansha is an eternal optimist.'

'Unlike you?'

'Unlike me,' she agreed.

Sheppard stood up and straightened his bedding, giving her an equally dubious look. 'He trusts me. Why don't you?'

She raised her chin, looking down her nose at him – a particularly human trait, he mused. 'Because of what you represent.'

'Which is?' Sheppard pushed, hoping to gain a clue of what they thought he was here to do.

'You know I can't tell you that.'

He gave her a wry smile. 'So, you just thought you'd taunt me with it?'

She mirrored his smile with a tight, humourless one of her own. 'That's right.'

He sighed again. He really wasn't in the mood for mind games. The sooner he got away from these people and back to Phylacos to help his friends the better. 'What exactly have I done to make you hate me so much?' he asked, shaking his blanket straight then turning around to face her.

'I'm not supposed to talk of what is passed. Besides, it's what you _might_ do that I loathe the most,' she told him enigmatically.

Though he hated to admit it to himself, this woman was really getting under his skin. If only there was some way to crack her head open and find out what she knew… He planted his hands on his hips and took a couple of steps toward her. 'If I'm so dangerous, why don't you just kill me and get rid of the threat?'

'Believe me, Human, I'd love to. But Goronak forbids it—thanks to my brother. Lansha thinks it's best to keep you alive to focus Akalus' attention on you rather than finding another.'

He quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms to mimic her posture. 'If I'm the _right human_ , surely there isn't another?'

She opened her mouth to speak, but had no come-back to that. So, she clamped her lips together and scowled her displeasure at being outwitted.

Although Sheppard enjoyed his small victory, his mind was also spinning on overtime. If these people saw him as some kind of threat, they had no good reason to keep him around. It seemed like Lansha and his somewhat tenuous reasoning was the only thing standing between him and certain death right now…that and whatever was in this cave they planned to take him to.

'Sounds like I'd better stay on Goronak's good side,' he quipped, relaxing his stance to seem less antagonistic.

'You aren't fit to speak his name – don't let me hear you use it in jest again,' Mishta growled, her hand automatically moving to her weapon as she now approached him, getting right up in his face. 'Goronak is a Founder. He _deserves_ your respect.'

As Sheppard prepared himself for some sort of attack, Lansha thankfully returned. Mishta immediately backed down under his questioning glare as he placed himself between them.

'Goronak says you're free to go to the river, but I'm to remind you that if you try to escape the perimeter of the wood is alarmed and guarded at regular points. You will be shot and possibly killed if you cross it,' he told Sheppard in a tone decidedly edged with annoyance.

Sheppard nodded, trying not to show his disappointment at that piece of intel. 'Understood.'

Obviously misreading his expression, Lansha clapped a hand down on his shoulder. 'Don't worry. I'll make sure you know where the perimeter is,' he assured him. Then he began to rummage through a packing chest at the end of his bed. 'Here. You'll need this.' He tossed a large, coarse cloth over to Sheppard, which he assumed Lansha intended for use as a towel. Soon after, a small, lightly perfumed ball came flying his way, too. This was obviously their version of soap.

'Come. We'll be on our way,' Lansha said cheerily, swiping up a board that leaned in the corner of their shelter and heading back outside. As Sheppard followed, Mishta ducked into the opening and held the flap back for him. In truth, it didn't help; it actually made getting out of the tent far more awkward. He squeezed past, getting much closer to her than he would have intentionally planned to. He got the impression the discomfort was intentional, especially when she breathed, 'One wrong move, and I will personally shoot you, Human,' in his ear as he passed.

He didn't bother to respond.

As he followed Lansha through the camp, Sheppard once again drew the looks and whispers of the gathered Birajans. Their pale lilac eyes followed him every step of the way. One female offered him breakfast, which he politely declined. They had stuffed him so full of food the previous day he couldn't even contemplate it. She looked utterly dejected at his refusal, so he apologised and promised to eat with them later when he returned, a compromise that seemed to appease her, if only a little.

When they reached the cover of the trees - huge, winding, twisted arbores, with vast arms spread wide beneath the cloudless sky - Sheppard finally felt safe enough to speak to Lansha. 'Why are they treating me like that?' he asked.

'Like what?'

'Like I'm something special.'

'We don't meet many humans…you, in particular, are a very valuable creature on our planet,' Lansha replied, matter-of-fact.

He paused a moment, hoping Lansha would expand on that, but he didn't. 'You're not going to tell me why though, right?'

Lansha grinned broadly, amused by Sheppard's persistence. 'I broached the subject with Goronak when I asked his permission for you to bathe. He said that if I felt you could be trusted with the information he would speak with you later.'

'So, all I have to do is play nice and I'll get my explanation?'

'Play nice?' The use of the words obviously confused Lansha.

'Never mind,' Sheppard said with his customary lop-sided smile. 'I was just kidding anyway.'

The smells of the woodland refreshed him after months in the stale air of the Phylacos prison complex. Sheppard had never imagined that the aroma of damp earth and foliage could be so appealing, but they seemed the most wonderful things he'd ever smelled as he walked through that verdant woodland. His senses were heightened through months of deprivation, every sight, sound and smell more pronounced than anything he had experienced before. Every slight variation in light, or wind direction sent shivers through his over-sensitised skin; every sound of wildlife or fallen twig snapping beneath his boots echoed and reverberated in his ears. But it was wonderful. He had always loved being outdoors. He'd missed these simple pleasures…even if some of them were a little alien to him.

Moss cushioned his steps as he walked, small forest blooms breaking through it at intervals in explosions of brilliant colour. The canopy of branches overhead cast mottled shadows before his feet as the sun shone through and kissed the ground. After so long in a fetid, dismal cell, this place seemed like paradise. A regular Garden of Eden.

After they'd walked for a while, Sheppard became aware of the sound of water…running water with a decent current. They had to be nearing the river. When they reached its banks, the sheer size of it stopped him dead in his tracks. The breadth of the body of water was immense. It wasn't like the water he'd drunk and had been hosed down with at Phylacos, this was water as he'd always known it, beautiful, clear, fresh, and a force to be reckoned with.

'Here we are,' Lansha said, gesturing toward the river with a dip of his head. 'Your bath awaits you. It's cold, but if you use plenty of soap it will clean you well enough.'

'Thanks. I'll make sure I do.'

'The perimeter is not far from here, but if you don't wander from this spot you'll be fine. I'll give you some time alone while I gather the wood, then I'll come back and collect you so you don't get lost returning to camp. Oh, and I would advise against wading in too far; the current is strong and could easily sweep you away. Stay near the bank and you'll be fine.' Sheppard sat down on a rock beside the bank to untie his bootlaces as Lansha began to walk away. The alien stopped and looked back over his shoulder at him. 'You won't try anything foolish, will you?' he asked.

'No, I got that message loud and clear from your sister,' Sheppard assured him.

Lansha nodded, seeming to understand what he meant. 'She doesn't trust you, but she's a good person when you get to know her.'

'If you say so,' Sheppard grunted, slipping off his boots. 'She's not exactly given that impression so far.'

Lansha pressed a button on the underside of the board he'd carried out there and let go of it, leaving it hovering at waist height. He steered it away, dropping branches onto it as he disappeared into the trees, leaving Sheppard alone with the river and his pellet of soap.

Sheppard shirked off his BDU shirt and dropped it to the dry ground higher up the bank before walking down the slight descent to the river's edge. He dipped his fingers into the water, snatching them back as if bitten. Describing it as cold had been somewhat of an understatement; it was damn near freezing. Suddenly, taking that bath didn't seem quite so appealing. Maybe just a wash would do after all.

He slipped off his t-shirt, then, cupping his hand, gathered up some of the water and held it against the Reliquiae injection mark on his arm. The puncture site throbbed intensely against the cold intrusion, but at least he felt like he was doing something useful for himself, cleaning away the remnants of dried blood from the wound. He rubbed the soap on his fingers until it lathered and gently washed the area. The memory of what the Reliquiae had done to him the previous night still refused to fully surface, as if he was looking at it through frosted glass, and despite the annoying sense of confusion that left him with, part of him felt grateful for the amnesia. Even the pain was fuzzy; he knew it had hurt like fury, but he couldn't recall what it had actually felt like. Thankfully, the Reliquiae had been complacent enough to assume they had time to work on his addiction to their enzyme, and although he felt a little shaky today in the aftermath of its application, he felt certain it would pass with no great effect on his health. Though he was already plotting to leave his new-found _friends_ far behind and head back to Phylacos to mount a rescue, he knew how lucky he was that Mishta and Juroah had turned up when they did. The trauma of Ronon's addiction to the enzyme was still fresh in his mind, even though yesterday refused to come back to him, and he wasn't sure he had the strength to battle back from the brink of destruction the way Ronon had. His body had been through too much already, with help from the enzyme or not.

A few splashes of cold liquid against his face chased those dark thoughts away. Much as it left him gasping, he had to admit it was refreshing compared to the tepid gloop they'd been hosed down with in the cells. Whatever was added to the water there made it oily and repugnant, although it undoubtedly did the trick of cleaning them once it dried and flaked off, taking layers of filth with it. Even the drinking water had had a strangely dense quality and bitter flavour. But this water here was cool and clean and although the somewhat ceremonial bathing at the Reliquiae fortress had helped rid him of the months of grime the perfunctory hosing had missed, he hadn't been able to relax and enjoy it as much as he could out here…alone.

He splashed more water on his body, now washing away the blood from yesterday's hurried surgery, then lathered up and swilled down before drying himself quickly on the rough towel Lansha had loaned him, all the time scouring the length of the river as far as he could see and the terrain over on the far bank. The current was fast, but not so fast he couldn't make a good go at crossing if he could find a narrower point. And there was dense forest on the other side of it, so plenty of cover to shield his escape once he was over there. Of course, there was the small matter of the perimeter these people had set up, but he figured if he put enough space between him and them once he'd triggered it, they'd soon figure he wasn't worth the effort. He was a drain on their resources; why would they even want to keep him around?

As he set to work on rinsing out his sweat-soaked t-shirt a rustle in the trees behind him broke his train of thought. His head snapped around in the direction of the sound, but he couldn't see anything there. His skin prickled, a sure sign that he was being watched. His muscles tensed, heart-rate increased, and adrenaline surged as his body slipped seamlessly from relaxed into fight or flight mode. Though it meant he was most likely in deep crap, it felt good to have his body react that way. He'd been so sick of late, nothing had roused this kind of instinctive reaction. Then, it suddenly occurred to him that he was on an alien planet and had absolutely no idea what lurked in the trees behind him; anything could happen. He watched the tree line for a while longer, but nothing moved. Not even the slightest sound carried to his attentive ears.

Allowing himself a little chuckle at his overactive imagination, Sheppard relaxed and returned to rinsing out his t-shirt, rubbing what soap remained into the most odorous parts before soaking it clean and wringing it out until he could squeeze no more water from it.

Figuring he was clean enough for the time being, he headed back up the bank to retrieve his BDU shirt and pull it on.

It wasn't there.

He stared at the ground where it had been lying moments earlier as if he thought it might miraculously spit it back out again. Then he heard a throat being cleared and raised his head to see Mishta leaning casually against a tree trunk a dozen or so yards away, the shirt dangling from her right index finger.

Yep. That figured.

'I thought you came out here to bathe,' she called to him, her comment clearly meant as some kind of veiled accusation.

'Well, if I'd known I had an audience I would have put on a better show,' he said, throwing her a crooked smile.

The look she gave him in return was distinctly sour.

'I decided to wash instead. Not a crime, is it?' he enquired.

'You were taking rather a lot of interest in the surroundings,' she mused, examining the patch on the arm of his shirt while she held it up at eye level. 'Anyone would think you were weighing up your escape options.'

He had to admit she was a sharp one, and far more street-smart than her kind-hearted brother.

'Or perhaps since I'm completely unfamiliar with this planet and the indigenous lifeforms I'm sharing it with, I was making sure I wasn't being crept up on by anything dangerous. Looks like I was right to be concerned.'

Mishta scowled, but he got the feeling she was secretly pleased he'd described her as dangerous. That was the impression she'd been going for since they'd met, after all.

'We have group members in charge of laundry back at camp. They'll wash your clothes if you give them to them,' she informed him, dipping her head towards the soggy t-shirt in his hand.

'Okay…thanks for the info,' he replied, wondering if she ever planned to toss him his dry shirt so he could cover up.

'This symbol,' she said, finally referring to the sleeve patch on the item she was withholding from him. 'What kind of animal is this?'

'It's Pegasus.'

She arched an eyebrow, interest apparently piqued. 'Like our galaxy?'

'Yeah…it's a mythological flying horse…' he stopped as interest changed to confusion. 'Not that you know what a horse is.'

'So, it isn't real?'

'Well, horses are real, but they don't tend to fly…' Again, she frowned. 'No wings,' he explained.

She nodded as if she understood, but he could see she was just too proud to admit she didn't. 'Those scars on your shoulders,' she said, changing the subject. 'How did you get them?'

Suddenly self-conscious, Sheppard crossed the short distance between them and snatched his shirt back from her without asking. She didn't put up any resistance, letting it go as soon as he tugged it from her grip. 'The Kheprians gave me a little lesson in respect,' he grunted, buttoning himself in so they were no longer on show. 'Tough wardens…you'd like them.'

'My father bore some marks that were very similar…apparently, he had no respect either. It must be a human trait.'

Sheppard bit back his response to that insinuation, biting down on his lip rather than responding.

She regarded him silently as he buttoned up his shirt, then spoke again. 'Just in case you were thinking of running, this river is not traversable for many miles in either direction from this point. If you think the surface looks wild, you should feel the undercurrents. A weakling like you would have no chance against them.'

Hackles well and truly raised now, the good humour Sheppard had been desperately clinging to abandoned him. 'Yeah, well, I challenge you to look any better after six months in that God-forsaken hell-hole,' he growled, pinning her with a look that had to at least border on ferocious given the momentary flash of uneasiness that registered on her pretty features.

Her hand slowly shifted to the gun holstered at her thigh.

He hadn't meant to frighten her, and immediately diffused the situation with another of his customary lop-sided smiles. 'C'mon, you're not afraid of a weakling like me, are you?'

She slipped her gun free and pointed it between his eyes. 'Hardly.'

'There's no need for that,' he said calmly, raising his hands. 'Put the gun away,'

'You don't give the orders around here, Human,' she told him, holding steady.

'The name's John,' he reminded her. 'Didn't anyone hear me say that yesterday?'

'We all heard,' she told him, eyes full of venomous mistrust as she looked him over. 'And though others may be in awe of the Wraith Slayer, I feel no such admiration.'

'Wraith Slayer? Is that what people call me out here?' he asked, amazed that his reputation had preceded him so far out in the galaxy.

'Wraith Slayer…but perhaps that should be Reliquiae worshipper. Their enzyme courses through your veins…perhaps you plan to return to them for more?'

'The Reliquiae? Are you kidding?' he choked, hands dropping in disbelief. 'I didn't ask them to give me that stuff…and I sure as hell don't want any more of it. I've seen what it can do to a man…I'm guessing you haven't or you'd know just how far off the mark you are. Now, put the gun away.'

'I won't…not until I know you pose no threat to us.'

'I'm not a threat. What do I have to do to prove that to you?'

'There's nothing you can do, because I know why you're here.'

'Great!' he yelled, frustrated by her enigmatic insults. 'So, why don't you give _me_ a clue, 'cos I have no freaking idea what you're talking about?'

She wordlessly glared at him, and it was obvious she had no intention of filling in the blanks for him.

He sighed, shoulders slumping. 'Fine…I'll just head back to camp then, shall I?' he grouched, shaking his head.

As he tried to walk away, she pushed her gun up against his temple. 'You are our destruction,' she hissed, tears brimming in her eyes. 'With you, the universe ends. Now, you give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand.'

'Mishta! Let him go!' Lansha shouted, bursting in on the scene.

The fury burning in her eyes made Sheppard believe he wasn't going to get out of this situation alive, but he was tired of running scared. He wouldn't back down from the challenge. 'Put the gun away,' he insisted, meeting her glare with an equally fearless look of his own, 'before someone gets hurt.'

'Mishta,' Lansha shouted again. 'I said leave him be!'

After a few more highly charged seconds passed, she reluctantly lowered her weapon.

Lansha grabbed her arm and pulled her aside where he thought Sheppard couldn't hear them. 'What were you thinking? Why did you tell him that?' Sheppard heard him demand.

'Do you really think he doesn't know?' Mishta whispered hoarsely. 'How can he not know what he's been brought here to do?'

'He comes from a long-dead civilisation. He has no concept of what lies ahead for him. How could he?'

Sheppard, who had been picking up his t-shirt and pretending not to listen, instantly snapped back upright. _Long dead civilisation?_ What the hell was he talking about? He'd only been imprisoned for six months…

'You give him far too much credit,' Mishta growled, unaware that his attention was now fully on them.

'And you gave him far too much information,' Lansha countered.

'If he doesn't know, then he needs to. Only when he understands everything can he fully appreciate the danger he brings with him.'

'That's not your decision to make, Mishta. Only Goronak can decide what he needs to know,' Lansha replied, letting his gaze shift in Sheppard's direction at last.

This was the point at which he realised Sheppard was watching them both, obviously fully aware of what they'd been saying. Mishta too turned his way, her jaw dropping a fraction.

Lansha appeared to struggle to swallow before speaking again. 'Go back to the camp, Mishta. I'll speak with you later,' he said, giving her a push in the right direction, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he kept his attention on Sheppard.

She didn't argue, sliding her gun back into her holster and trudging silently away, head hung low in shame.

Lansha walked tentatively toward Sheppard, who still clutched his sodden t-shirt in his hands. Lansha said nothing, waiting for him to break the silence.

There was only one thing Sheppard could think to say. 'I wanna speak to Goronak. Now!'

* * *

 **A/N: As always, thanks to everyone taking the time to share your thoughts. It helps to keep me going!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Now that more than a day had passed, Akalus felt it was time to hail the Reliquiae. To keep Sheppard alive, they would have been forced to treat him by now, and if that were the case, it was time to make it clear that they had to return him or face the consequences. Leaving him in their hands, though they currently needed him, did not ensure his lasting safety and he couldn't risk them turning on him when his deadline to act was so close.

It was no surprise when his initial hails were ignored, but it still fuelled his ire. Anger swelling, room trembling, he opted for a coded communication, imagining they did not wish to speak to him after their flagrant transgressions. But he had a message to get across to them, and he meant to deliver it by whatever means necessary. If this attempt received no response, he decided he would dispatch Hakkar to take his threats to them in person. They hadn't killed him last time, so hopefully they might spare him again. Whether they did or not was of no great concern. He would just promote another of the Kheprians to take his place if the ravenous Reliquiae should turn on him.

Message sent, he sat back and tried to calm his soul. The rage he felt at the injustice of what the Reliquiae had done was hard to sate, but he knew he had to keep it in check or he could lose all control and ruin everything. He couldn't risk doing anything that would harm the human, not now with so little time left. The chances of the Kheprian harvesting teams stumbling across another gene carrier with such a strong representation were infinitesimally small. And all attempts to create a replacement for Sheppard in his labs had proved unsuccessful. Try as they might, his team of scientists hadn't been able to isolate and eradicate the sickness consuming Sheppard's body, and when the cloned humans had been artificially aged, the sickness had rapidly claimed their lives. Not one of the grotesque creations had survived more than a few hours once animated.

Saving Sheppard was his only viable option.

No sooner had he completed that thought than he received a transmission. He activated the channel, a holographic image of the Reliquiae spokeswoman firing up in the centre of his office.

'How dare you?' she hissed, sharp teeth flashing as her flanged voice growled her disdain.

'I assume you received my transmission?' Akalus sneered, leaning back in his seat to calmly regard her, though his emotions were anything but calm.

'I am not referring to your threats,' she informed him, her gaze burning with obvious hatred. 'I refer to the way you attempt to deceive us.'

He stared at the elegant image standing before him, confused by her response. He could only assume she meant the fact he had lured them to Phylacos to gain the enzyme. 'You saw how sick the human was. I had little choice but to use your enzyme on him, whether with your permission or without.'

The Reliquia's brow puckered into a frown. 'Are you deliberately misunderstanding me to cause more irritation?'

Uncertain as to her meaning, he snapped, 'You stole from me, I think I am the one who should feel _irritated_.'

'And now you have stolen him back, killing two of my sisters in the process. Your crime is unforgiveable. You can be sure there will be a price to pay for your insolence.'

Her threats fell on deaf ears. Akalus had stopped listening at the words "stolen him back". 'Are you telling me you no longer have the human?' he rumbled, slamming his gauntlet-clad hands down onto his desk and pushing up from his seat.

The Reliquiae narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as if contemplating his question. 'Are you telling me that you don't have him either?'

The fury Akalus had been struggling to keep in check now erupted. 'How could you be so careless? You have put my plans in jeopardy!'

Oolanae curled her lips into a sneer. 'We care little for your delusional visions of the universe's future. Two of my sisters were murdered. You must have had a hand in this. No one else knew we even had possession of the human. Yet you expect me to believe you didn't take him back.'

Around him, Phylacos began to shake, a deep rumble from somewhere far beneath Akalus' feet and working its way up to the roof above his head. 'So, you claim you saw nothing? Someone simply walked into your fortress and spirited the human away? How big of a fool do you take me for?'

'No one walked in…a window was deactivated. Someone went to great trouble to gain access to him. And since he is apparently so valuable to you, you would have the most invested in taking him back from us,' she rasped, undeterred by his mounting fury.

He roared, a pulse of energy releasing from his armoured body and blasting everything around him several feet away. The communication with the Reliquiae failed, and the image of Oolanae flickered out of existence. The room continued to vibrate, shaking furnishings further across the room and away from him.

Akalus let loose his full choler, throwing anything within reach and smashing them into the walls. Either the Reliquiae had genuinely lost the human, or they were playing a trick on him so they could divert his attention elsewhere. Either way, the Reliquiae would rue the day they had decided to toy with him.

He threw back his head and bellowed a feral cry that shook the very fabric of the compound.

Hakkar appeared in the doorway, ever loyal and drawn by the sounds from his master's office. 'Master? Is there anything I can do to help you?'

Akalus steadied himself against his desk, as equipment around him sparked and smoked from the intensity of his fury. 'Ready an incursion team,' he growled, the edge to his electronic tone plain to hear despite the static interference as his electronics tried to reset. 'Retrieve the human from the Reliquiae.'

'Of course, Master,' Hakkar agreed without hesitation, leaving just as quickly as he had appeared.

Though he knew the act would incite war between them, Akalus did not care. The Reliquiae would put up a ferocious fight at any intrusion, but he had to know where John Sheppard was. If they had lied, he would make them all pay. If they hadn't…then whoever had taken him would be next in line to suffer the consequences of his wrath.

Either way, the human would be his…even if he had to turn the galaxy inside out to find him.

oooOOOooo

The patience Ronon found so hard to nurture eventually paid off. After the passage of an indiscernible length of time in which he had drifted in and out of sleep as best he could while huddled in a tight corner and on the alert for enemies, he heard the instantly recognisable pitch of the guard's voices. They were approaching from his left.

Staying back in the shadows, he waited until the two of them stopped before the concealed elevator door and activated it – and then he pounced. His makeshift knife proved a most effective weapon despite its fragile nature. It sliced through the lines feeding into the first Kheprian's face mask as he leapt on his back and tackled him, allowing Ronon to merely push him aside and leave him gasping as he battled the second guard.

This one reached for his baton as he attacked, but Ronon spun and kicked, his long legs connecting with the creature's arm just as he grasped the handle. The Kheprian lost his grip and the weapon went flying away to an unreachable distance for either of them, not that the loss left the creature defenceless. It came at him, swinging its huge, club-like appendages wildly in an attempt to knock Ronon senseless. But, despite his lack of recent sparring practice, Ronon's reflexes remained amazingly sharp, and he avoided the contact until he could lunge forward and jab his knife into the body of the guard.

It broke, the armour plating on its body too tough for the shard of mirror to penetrate.

Crap. He'd wasted his advantage.

In the millisecond Ronon allowed the breakage to distract him the guard clubbed him upside his head, knocking him sideways so he collided with the rough stone wall. He folded to the ground, and though a little stunned he managed to roll clear before a second pincer thumped into the floor where his head had been a second earlier, scrambling his way over to the other Kheprian, who was beginning to collapse. He grabbed up the baton from that one and faced off against his foe. He wasn't going to lose this fight; he was determined to get Teyla out of the mines and get them both as far away from this pit of despair as possible.

Ronon began to swing the baton in a smooth figure of eight in front of him, tossing it from one hand to another, gathering speed. He could sense the confusion in his opponent, the uncertainty the creature felt as to what his next move would be and when it would come. Apparently, he'd never seen anyone manipulate one of their weapons that way and his lack of confidence in how to deal with the man before him left him vulnerable. To the sound of the Kheprian's felled comrade choking out his last, Ronon launched into a full-on attack, swinging, spinning, swinging the opposite way, striking high and low in no recognisable pattern. The Kheprian could not block him because he never knew where the next shot was coming from. The sense of power it gave Ronon to land repeated blows gave him the boost he needed to continue despite the burning fatigue in his arms. He could do this. He _would_ do this.

Eventually, his relentless onslaught paid off and the Kheprian lost his balance, tripping over the flailing body of his fellow guard. And when he was down, Ronon didn't miss a beat in grasping the feed pipes leading into his mask and ripping them right out. The guard thumped him, knocking him clear, and frantically began trying to reattach the lines to re-establish his supply of breathable air.

Ronon took advantage of the distraction, and set about clubbing the struggling creature into unconsciousness. It took many blows, but eventually the Kheprian fell still, just as his companion breathed out his last.

Ronon took a moment to steady himself, to let the inner rage subside, then took stock of his situation. Instincts told him to bolt for the elevator and get off this level, but his more rational side told him leaving the bodies out in the open would be problematic. While the adrenalin still coursed through him, he used that surge of strength to drag the carcasses of his fallen enemies into a side room…one that looked like it might not be in regular use. He didn't doubt that these two would eventually be missed, but at least if their bodies weren't stumbled upon it would give him more time.

His muscles burned from the effort, his diminished mass acutely telling when put under full duress. Six months ago, that incident would have barely drawn a sweat, but now he was breathless and perspiring, his strength incredibly diminished. That realisation crystallised his thinking. If he didn't escape soon, he would soon be too weak to try.

He had to do this now…he had to get free of the deathly grip of Phylacos.

oooOOOooo

Oolanae and three of her sisters watched from a discreet distance as the three-armed Kheprian once again entered their fortress and waited calmly for someone to appear.

 _Why is he here?_ she heard them ask as one, remaining concealed from sight as they watched him nervously shifting one way then another in their vast lobby, his eyes searching for signs of movement.

 _This is the one who told us about the human_ , she explained, since the others had never seen him before. _He gave us the promise we would be able to take him from Phylacos._

 _And then stole him back again, most likely_ , one of her sisters hissed inside her head. The others added their agreement.

Oolanae watched their unexpected guest, not as certain as her sisters of his guilt. There was only one way to be sure. Focusing on the Kheprian, she delved into his mind, seeking out information to prove his innocence or guilt. She sensed no malice intended by his presence, detected more than a hint of fear to be within their walls again, and even found remnants of Akalus' orders to infiltrate the fortress and seek out the human, no matter how many Reliquiae resisted…along with his intentions not to obey.

She mentally passed the information to her sisters as Hakkar called up to them, 'If you want to know what is in my mind, you need only ask.'

Oolanae's sisters hissed deep in their throats, but she signalled for them to be silent. This one had done no harm to them. She was prepared to hear what he had to say.

She descended the staircase to meet him.

'Why do you come here, Kheprian, if you have no intention of carrying out your Master's will?'

'I come only to ask you if it is true that you have lost the human,' he told her, keeping his head low as a sign he offered no challenge.

'You know we did. Akalus seized him back from us,' one of Oolanae's sisters hissed from the heights of the staircase.

The Kheprian took half a pace back, apparently surprised to find there was more than one Reliquiae addressing him. His head shifted, and though Oolanae could not see his eyes, she knew he was searching out the source of the other voice, preparing to defend himself. 'He did not. He believes you are trying to deceive him so he will not attempt to do so.'

When his attention came back to rest on her, Oolanae dipped into his mind once more…subtly so as not to draw attention to her act. She found remnants of a conversation the Kheprian had held with Akalus, brief but explanatory. Unless Akalus was misleading the Kheprian, he spoke the truth.

'If Akalus does not have him, then who took the human?' she asked, circling him as was her manner when trying to unsettle her _guests_. The constant movement caused disorientation and confusion in thinking – if this Kheprian was trying to fool her into trusting him again, it would help to uncover his duplicity.

'I have no idea,' he confessed, remaining still at the centre of her circle. 'Were there no clues left behind to suggest the identity of the perpetrators?'

'Some,' she conceded. 'Various technologies from other races, but we know how easy trade is. Anyone could have purchased them.'

'No DNA?'

She smiled, bearing all her razor-sharp teeth. 'They were very careful. Everything had been treated with a substance that taints any traces left on their surfaces.'

'That is not something readily available on Gragoffa,' The Kheprian mused, as he watched her round him again. 'Which suggests whoever took him has been gathering supplies for just this kind of an infiltration.'

'An infiltration of this fortress?' she asked, finding the suggestion unlikely.

'Not necessarily…perhaps they were planning an attack on somewhere else – such as Phylacos.'

She realised what he was suggesting. 'The rebel Birajan faction?' she asked, seeking clarification. 'No one knows where they are.'

'No, but it seems they were close enough to see you take the human and comprehend his importance.'

'Then you are suggesting this is our fault?' she hissed, watching him tense and shrink his form to appear less challenging in an instant.

'No, Mistress. It was merely an observation,' he insisted, not daring to raise his head. 'I meant only to point out that they cannot be based too far from Phylacos if they were able to see you leave with the human.'

She paused, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the three-armed Kheprian standing submissively before her. Though it made her feel powerful to hold such a creature in fear of her, she decided not to prolong his agony. 'Your observation is sound,' she agreed, stroking her fingers down one of his forelimbs. 'My sisters and I will take it into consideration when formulating our next move.'

While they had conversed, another Reliquia had slowly descended the staircase. 'Why did you bring troops with you?' she now demanded.

Oolanae froze, snatching back her hand. 'Is this true?'

'Believe me, Mistress. I mean you no harm. Akalus dispatched me to make a raid on your fortress…I could not leave alone. They have been instructed to wait outside…they will not enter.'

She reached into his mind once more, this time not as carefully as the last, the intensity of the invasion making his legs buckle and leaving him staggering. He slumped and laid a club-like pincer against the floor to steady himself.

'I am being honest with you,' he wheezed, struggling to cope with the mental intrusion. 'If I were not, I would have deployed them already.'

She crouched beside him, not releasing him from her violating grip. 'You understand that if I find you are lying I can destroy you with a single thought?'

'I do,' he hissed, and as she found his truth she withdrew to allow him to recover.

'You have Akalus' answer, now leave us,' she ordered, striding away to return to her sisters.

'Is there nothing more I can do to assist you in your stand against him?' the Kheprian asked, seemingly surprised to be cast aside so readily.

'You have your own agenda, Kheprian. To us, Akalus is merely an annoyance. Our priority is finding the human.' Oolanae paused, thinking for a moment as he rose painfully to his feet again. 'If you were to assist us in some way, we might help you bring down Akalus once our strength is restored.'

He bowed his head, accepting her words without further question.

As he turned she called after him, 'Oh, and Kheprian – ' He looked back toward her. 'Do what you can to ensure we are the first to find the human, not Akalus.'

The creature gave a sharp nod. 'I will do all I can to prevent him retrieving the human. You have my word.'

She closed the doors behind him as he left, and one of her sisters took the watch to guard the rest of them as Oolanae called a meeting in the Great Chamber. The room lay in the bowels of the fortress, encased within the rock the visible parts of the building were built upon. In the subdued lighting, the Reliquiae gathered, all of their number in one place for the first time in decades.

Within the confines of the vast, circular meeting room, an angry rumble rippled through the gathered females. No one had struck down a Reliquiae in many, many years, not since the signing of the Gragoffa peace treaty when they had agreed to stop culling in return for offerings from the local peoples. But all that had changed now.

In murdering two of their number, someone had broken the terms of the treaty.

Marrath, the oldest member of the council, raised her hands, bringing silence to the gathering.

'Sisters, though we mourn the loss of our fellow Reliquiae, we must not lose ourselves in self-pity. It is vital that we draw together and focus on what is important now. No matter our grievance with the trickery Akalus used to lure us to Phylacos, we must not let that steer us from our true course.'

The gathered Reliquiae sounded their approval. The cacophony rose all the way to the vaulted ceiling, echoing from this and the high walls surrounding them.

Marrath begged for their silence once again, calming them down with a gentle fanning of her long, elegant hands. 'Please, sisters, restraint. I understand your excitement, but we must be careful in the execution of our plans.'

'May I speak?' Oolanae asked, addressing their appointed leader.

'Of course. Tell us what news the Kheprian brought.'

Oolanae rose from her seat and walked to the centre of the chamber, looking up to the rows of carved seats set out in three tiers around the walls. Gone were the days when their kind could fill those seats and the seats of many other such chambers. But now there was a chance to return to their previous numbers…if they could find the human and use his knowledge to locate Atlantis

'Many of you have only arrived here today, so you are not aware of what we discovered about the human we took from Phylacos. Not only did he have the Ancient gene in a quantity required to reactivate Atlantis, he was once one of the humans who took over the city and raised it from the depths the Lanteans had hidden it within.'

That news raised another murmur, this one of surprise.

'Who is the human?' Marrath asked, as she held up a hand to silence their sisters.

'John Sheppard.'

For a moment, the silence remained in place, finally broken a few seconds later by a hoarse whisper of the name he had come to be known by.

'The Wraith Slayer!'

'He is but one!' Oolanae called over the ripple of awe echoing through the chamber. 'And he is sick. He is no threat to us.'

'John Sheppard…not a threat?' Marrath asked, her aged gaze fixing on Oolanae's. 'I doubt the sisters we lost to him millennia ago would agree with your assessment.'

'So, let us ensure we make good use of him…and then make him pay for his crimes once he is no longer of use to us.'

'And we begin by attacking Akalus,' another of the Reliquiae, Ancathae, asked.

'No. The Kheprian who came here brought us useful information to contradict the theory that Akalus stole the human back,' she informed the gathering. 'I searched his mind for the truth of this and confirmed it is so.'

'But who else would have known about the human and his worth to us?' Marrath now enquired, an obvious question when they had only planned to take the human from Akalus so recently. Oolanae sensed another question echo in her mind; some there wondered if the human had been claimed as food and the murders committed to cover the traces. Another rumble of voices and accusatory looks were exchanged, and Oolanae's heart sank. Already they were losing focus. Perhaps they didn't deserve to survive.

'The Kheprian hinted at a resistance group…one determined to stop Akalus. They might have been watching Phylacos when we took the human.'

'The Kheprian is just protecting his master,' Ancathae sneered, unimpressed by Oolanae's explanation. 'Or perhaps you protect yourself.'

Enraged, Oolanae hissed and roared, bringing the room to silence. Even Marrath looked concerned.

'When we were strong, we pitted ourselves against one another, and we could afford to do so,' she rasped, pacing the perimeter of the centre circle. 'We were once many and our power was unchallenged. Now there are no longer enough of us left to fill even this single chamber. We can ill afford divisive suspicions. These rebels should be the focus of our energies. We need to search for them and find out if they have the human. Retrieving him would not only benefit us, but it would be a strike at the very heart of Akalus' beliefs, and would do him as much harm as a raid on Phylacos itself. Soon, we will have John Sheppard under our command. He will beg to serve us and that in itself will justify the deaths of our sisters. The Wraith Slayer on his knees pleading for our generosity…that will be a wondrous revenge for all he has done.'

A hiss of support resounded from the wall, echoing down to Oolanae at the centre of the room.

'For now, our priority must be finding that Human. The rest will come soon enough.'

'What should we do with those who stole him from us?' another of the gathering asked.

Oolanae looked up now to where Marrath sat, her throne set a little higher than all the surrounding seats. The decision on their fate would be hers to make.

Marrath considered her answer carefully as she looked around at the faces of her fellow Reliquiae, no doubt understanding that her response would change the enforced peace on Gragoffa forever. 'Those who took this human and stole our weapons killed two of our kind. Show them no mercy.'

Hissing rent the air again, along with cries of support for her decision. Oolanae smiled, satisfied that they were now united in their course. Whoever had taken Sheppard from their fortress would rue the day they had chosen to cross the Reliquiae.

They would certainly never cross them again.

oooOOOooo

Mishta watched silently from her spot beside the cooking fire as Sheppard's temper simmered, threatening to spill over. She knew that feeling well since she battled with her own fury on a daily basis, but she hadn't thought this human had it in him to feel such rage. At some level it impressed her, though she doubted Goronak would be as pleased when he found out the cause of the human's change of mood. And though it galled her to admit it, this was her fault. She'd let her emotions run away with her…again.

Numerous times Lansha tried in vain to assuage the human's agitation, but he was not settling. Over and over again, he demanded a meeting with Goronak and would speak to no one else. Others joined the discussion to try to dissuade him from pursuing this course until Goronak was ready – particularly the females, who had apparently taken the human to their hearts. They offered him food and drink in attempts to placate him, which he refused with increasingly aggressive rebuttals until he eventually knocked a plate out of the hands of Amlensha, who had been particularly insistent that he try some of the nettle dumplings she'd prepared. Knowing how bad they always tasted, Mishta couldn't help but figure that was the best result for all of them and felt glad she hadn't intervened to stop him yet.

The look of horror on Amlensha's face and her fearful shriek drew an immediate apology from the human, and he tried his best to calm her. But still she scurried away and the other females backed off to what they evidently felt was a safer distance.

But they didn't leave. They wanted to see how this all played out…just as she did.

A strange feeling churned up in Mishta's gut as she watched him, a feeling she only got around this human. His anger was dangerous… _he_ was dangerous. He might be malnourished and pale, but there was something about the dark mood that had now descended on him that told her he wasn't as defenceless or amiable as she had first believed. She hadn't expected him to stand up to her the way he had in the woods. She'd expected him to do as she told him because it was the safest thing to do. Her father had often regaled them with tales of how frightened the humans at Phylacos were. Years of abuse, neglect, and hunger broke the spirit of almost everyone in there. Her own father had been fortunate enough to escape during an uprising in the exercise quadrant after only three months in captivity by his own estimation. He had been a man of spirit, just like this human, but even he had borne the psychological scars of his short time there. She had no idea how long this man had been imprisoned within Phylacos' walls; perhaps the damage done ran deeper than any of them had realised. It was a possibility they would all have to pay more mind to.

As Lansha reached over to steady him once more, the human lashed out, pushing her brother hard enough to make him stumble. Her hand immediately slipped to her weapon, but Lansha, knowing her only too well, immediately signalled for her to stay away. In truth, she was relieved that Lansha told her to hold back; the human certainly brought out the worst in her. She didn't want to do anything she would regret later.

'What the hell is wrong with you people?' the human yelled, spotting where her hand still rested. 'You treat me like I'm some kind of monster…ever think it might be all of you with the problem?'

'Mishta sees herself as a protector…this is nothing personal,' Lansha tried to reason with him, reaching out to put his hand on the human's shoulder.

Once again, his conciliatory gesture was knocked away. 'No? Well, it sure as hell feels personal!'

Mishta pushed through the gathered Birajans between her and the human and pushed him back, even as her brother tried to restrain her. 'Your fight is with me, not him. Lansha has treated you with nothing but respect,' she growled, standing firm between the two of them.

'I'm not interested in fighting with either of you!' he grunted, his body language relaxing as if he was reluctant to get physical with her. 'I'm just sick of being lied to. Now where the hell is Goronak?'

Juroah appeared from the direction of the transporters, carrying a sack of supplies he'd been to pick up for their midrise meal. He traversed the campsite quickly, setting the provisions down near the cooking fire as he passed it. 'Human…Why are you shouting?'

'Mishta has upset him,' Lansha swiftly interjected, absolving himself of any blame.

The human arched an eyebrow. 'She isn't the only one.'

Lansha looked shame-faced, and quietly added, 'We may have spoken too freely in front of him while…having a disagreement.'

Juroah gave an exaggerated blink and looked from one to the other of them. Mishta, too, felt ashamed under the simmering fury of Juroah's silent disapproval. 'Perhaps the two of you should give the human some space,' he eventually said through clenched jaws.

Neither of them refused, both backing off a little to give Juroah time and space to calm things down.

'Human, I do not know what those two have done to offend you…I do not need to know…but Goronak is not here, so whatever it is you wish to discuss with him will simply have to wait.'

'Where is he then?' the human demanded, hands planted on his hips. It was clear from his body language that he thought that was a lie.

'He takes a walk at this each morning to think through issues that have arisen,' Juroah explained evenly, not reacting to the human's unspoken challenge. 'He finds the peace of the woodland and cooler air helps him to focus. He will return soon and I will ensure he speaks with you, you have me word on that.'

The human glared at Juroah, and Mishta couldn't judge how he was going to react. Once again, she found her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon. She had no intention of killing him – she didn't have permission to do that – but she would certainly stop him if he made any kind of move against her mentor.

Thankfully, Juroah's promise seemed to have the desired effect. The human slouched into a more relaxed stance, nodding his agreement and finally sitting down, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. He appeared to be deep in thought, and she found herself wondering just what he was thinking about. Was it her earlier behaviour or Lansha's words that had him so riled? Did he really not know anything of the fate of humankind? His reaction had suggested not. She experienced a pang of guilt that he had found out in the way he had. That was on her. It was her treatment of him that had started the argument between herself and Lansha. Perhaps she should be taking her medication more regularly. If she had, she doubted she would have threatened the human so foolishly.

On consideration, she supposed her earlier demeanour was…regrettable. But what was done was done. She couldn't take any of it back now.

Eventually Goronak arrived in camp, returning from a stroll to take in the morning air. Juroah approached him, having been briefed on the situation by Mishta herself, and spoke quietly to the founder. Mishta watched Goronak's expression darken, his eyes shifting between Sheppard and her several times before settling back on Juroah. He seemed to understand that Sheppard would not relent until they spoke, so invited him to his tent where they could speak privately. They could ill afford Sheppard's fear and anger to spread through the rest of the camp at such a delicate time. It was the best move from what she'd seen of his current behaviour. A refusal to talk would most likely have resulted in a complete eruption of the human's barely restrained emotions, and none of them needed to see that.

Mishta watched them go, unable to drag her eyes away until Goronak's shelter completely engulfed them. The females around her chattered excitedly. Sheppard's show of temper had certainly set a few pulses racing.

'What do you think of him, Mishta?' one of them asked from behind her. 'Impressive, isn't he? If you weren't already promised, you two would make a good match.'

Mishta rolled her eyes before turning to unleash her disapproval on them. 'I think he's an idiot - and so are you if you waste any more of your time thinking about him,' she growled, striding away to return to her tent. The giggles of the females she left behind rang in her ears all the way back there.

He was getting under her skin and they knew it.

She was really beginning to detest that human.

* * *

 **A/N: Hmmm, tensions are building everywhere. There could be trouble ahead. Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone leaving their comments. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Goronak insisted Sheppard take a drink with him before they talked, no doubt hoping it would give him time to calm down first. He also insisted that Lansha stayed, as he and Sheppard had formed a bond of friendship – albeit under considerable strain at this point in time.

Whatever the brew was, it reminded Sheppard of chamomile tea, something he completely detested. Yet, he forced it down and pretended it was having its no doubt intended soothing effect. After throwing it back as quickly as he could, he was keen to move on to the conversation. But Goronak took his own sweet time, discussing other matters with Lansha, including a reconnaissance trip to Agrastan to assess the situation with the Reliquiae. Sheppard knew the suggestion made sense, and if he weren't feeling so foul he might even have suggested some strategies, but all he wanted to do was get to the bottom of what was going on here on their godforsaken hell-hole of a planet.

Eventually, he could sit in silence no longer. 'Goronak, please. I've been kept in the dark, most of the time quite literally, since the Kheprians caught me. So, can you cut the crap and tell me what's going on?'

Goronak set down his cup, giving Sheppard a patient smile. 'What do you know, Human? How much have you been told?'

'I don't know anything,' he all but whined. 'That's the problem!'

'You do know some things. You know of your importance to the Reliquiae.'

'Yeah…I get that part. They want me to help them find Atlantis and a cure for their current lack of Wraithiness.'

Goronak and Lansha exchanged a confused look.

He sighed. 'No…that's probably not a real word,' Sheppard conceded, 'but you know what I mean. The thing is…I don't get how this all happened. How did the Wraith become the Reliquiae in the six months I've been trapped here? And why did Lansha say I come from a long-dead civilisation?'

The look of confusion they shared now turned to one of guilt. He knew they were keeping something from him, something big, and he was about to let them have it with both barrels when he thought better of another outburst. They were beginning to talk with him; if he pushed too hard they might stop. He had to play this cool.

Goronak gave a deep sigh, rubbed his mouth thoughtfully, then began. 'When the Kheprians abducted you, you travelled much further than you imagined…through both space…and time.'

The word "time" made Sheppard's heart sink into his boots. He'd travelled forward in time before, seen the devastation the future held if he disappeared. 'How far through time?'

The two males blinked at him. Apparently, they hadn't expected him to take that news so readily.

'This is not my first rodeo…how far?'

'Rodeo?' Lansha frowned, more confused than before.

'I've time-travelled before,' he clarified. 'You guys seem to know who I am, so you have to know how far I've travelled this time.'

Lansha looked to Goronak, apparently waiting for permission before giving him anything. The older male nodded and the explanation began.

'We believe it is approximately sixty-two thousand years…'

'Whoa…' Sheppard gasped, running his hands back through his hair and knitting his fingers behind his neck as he let that sink in. 'That's…that's a long time.'

'Yes…yes, it is,' Lansha agreed, casting a worried look Goronak's way again. 'I take it you haven't travelled that far before?'

'No…not quite,' he admitted, feeling suddenly shaky. He'd never for a moment suspected he was that far from home. Geeja hadn't even hinted at it.

'Those of you held at Phylacos…you're the last of your kind,' Goronak told him.

Though he'd been in this same situation before, Sheppard couldn't help but wonder how it had come about this time. Previously, Michael had evaded capture and run rampant across the galaxy, wiping out most humans with the Hoffan drug, with the Wraith taking care of the rest. But Michael was dead, and if the Wraith were no more thanks to the work of his colleagues, what had caused mankind's fall?

'How?' was the only word he could pull out of that stream of thoughts.

'How?' Goronak repeated, apparently unsure what he meant.

'How did they die?'

'The peoples of Atlantis were determined to end the tyranny of the Wraith. Eventually, with the assistance of a treacherous Wraith, they "cured" their enemy of that part of them that sought the life force of other living beings, leaving them more…human.'

So, Keller had finally perfected the work Beckett had started? She'd neutralised the Iratus Bug style eating habits of their enemy in an attempt to end the cullings.

'What went wrong?'

Goronak shifted stiffly, looking uncomfortable with the information he was about to impart. 'For a short while the Wraith were sustained by normal food. But they were weakened. They did not regenerate in the way they once had, and they began to age. Anger broiled in their hearts at what the Atlanteans had reduced them to. Eventually, they redoubled their attacks, their fury erupting into unspeakable violence against the humans of the Pegasus Galaxy. No one was spared their wrath, and in the midst of this carnage, those unspeakable monsters began to devour their victims, finding that the flesh and blood of humans sustained them in a way no other food could. Male blood, in particular, gave them strength and preserved them like no other nourishment. And so, the cullings began again, eventually stretching out beyond our own stars and reaching all humans throughout the known universe. When almost all of the men had been eradicated, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the human race died out. What had seemed like humanity's salvation turned into their ultimate undoing.'

Sheppard closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He'd never been comfortable with the idea of tampering with genetics. Maybe his temporary transformation into a human/iratus hybrid gave him a better understanding of what it meant than others enjoyed, but for whatever reason he'd always shuddered at the thought of trying to change the Wraith into something more…tolerable. He was a fighter, not a scientist. The genetic stuff all felt a little too "Frankenstein" to him, and in his experience had never ended well. Of course, having spent the past six months being harvested for genetic material might have coloured his view somewhat more…

'So, they killed their own best food supply,' he smirked, shaking his head. 'Not very smart.'

'No. But when primal instincts take over, clarity of thought can become fractured,' the old Birajan said with a shake of his head. 'They became addicted to the effects of human testosterone. It made them young and strong again for a while. They knew their acts would be the end of them…but they couldn't stop.'

Sheppard shuddered again as he remembered Oolanae's constant call for restraint when the Reliquiae had cleaned him up yesterday. It must have taken every ounce of will power they had not to shred him to pieces knowing who he was and knowing how much they needed his blood to survive. But in the long term, they needed Atlantis more. That was the only reason they hadn't stripped the flesh from his bones where he'd lain. They believed Atlantis held the key to their restoration…information about their genetics and the changes they'd undergone that could help them become as strong as they had once been.

'Once the humans were gone, they decided to turn on other species. Again, male blood restored them to some small degree, and agreements were even made that each tribe would collect blood for the Reliquiae satiate their needs if they promised not to kill them, but nothing ever matched what they had gained from human flesh. So, they turned on one another, their altered genetics making them the closest thing to humans they had to feed on. But eventually, all their males, too, were gone. In the end, sixty or so females remained. No one has the definitive number other than them. And so they slept, taking turns to keep watch to hold any potential threats at bay. And still wary of them, the peoples of Pegasus kept their distance, believing it better to give them space to die slowly and peacefully than challenge them and face an agonising death.

'But, when Akalus began bringing humans here from the past, they awakened. He sold them humans to feed their needs, they began to feel the surge of strength and vitality in their veins again…and the addiction took hold once again. They learned that Akalus was seeking an Atlantean and realised they too might be able to use such a human to regain what was lost to them. So, they tried to usurp Akalus' power as leader of the operation. They underestimated Akalus, arrived with too few numbers, and the Kheprian guards were stronger than them and drove them out of Phylacos with Akalus' demand that they never return ringing in their ears. Left without a ready supply of humans, they were forced to once again hibernate. From time to time, they take humans from the slave auctions in the vicinity, but the supply is so low now that all they do is prolong their inevitable deaths.'

'They're dying out?' Sheppard clarified. 'The only remaining Reliquiae are in that fortress?'

Lansha shook his head. 'To defend against possible extinction, they live in three separate fortresses they acquired from their long dead human enemies. That way, unless all three were attacked at once, some would survive to continue their quest to find a human to take them to Atlantis.'

'We could take them down…you have warriors, right? With some training, we could…'

'You misunderstand, Human,' Goronak interrupted, stopping him mid-plan. 'The Reliquiae are not the enemy we fear. That is a battle for another day. Akalus is the one we seek to defeat.'

'Why?'

'He plans to destroy us all.'

Sheppard tried not to arch his eyebrow, he really did. But he knew they saw his doubt etched all over his expression.

'It is prophesied in the great book,' Goronak told him, in earnest.

Sheppard wasn't big on the whole prophesy thing. It was, more often than not, a lot of nonsensical mumbo-jumbo. In the back of his mind he heard McKay's voice scoff at the mere mention of it.

'So, you've read about all this…in a book?' he asked, his agitation building again. This was the reason he and so many other humans had suffered so much in Phylacos? A stupid piece of fiction?

'You do not believe?' Lansha asked, looking a little upset. Then he added more softly, 'My father never believed either.'

'It is the nature of humans not to believe what they cannot see or prove,' Goronak stated, as if he knew every human who had ever existed, even though Sheppard suspected he was only the second human these folks had ever spoken with. 'They do not believe one being could have the power to destroy everything.'

'It's not that I don't believe…exactly,' Sheppard lied, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this all was to him. 'But how do you know something is true just because it's written down? Look at how you live out here…look at what is happening at Phylacos. Akalus is nothing more than a power-crazed lunatic. The end isn't necessarily coming…could be you're wasting your lives on this!'

'The scriptures were written by a Birajan woman,' Lansha explained, sipping at his drink. 'A former host of Akalus. She could feel his thoughts…she could connect to the very essence of the universe and witnessed its death.'

'Host?' Sheppard's mind instantly conjured up the Goau'ld. Had they made it out here to Pegasus? A lot of time had passed, and with the Wraith a dying breed it was possible one had hidden out in this galaxy and risen in supremacy once no one strong enough to challenge it remained.

'Akalus is powerful…can take over the will of others. His energy overwhelms if you are unfortunate enough for him to choose you as a host. His life-force pervades and twists everything around him. Have you not felt it?' Goronak asked, his tone hushed as if even speaking of Akalus might draw his attention toward them.

Sheppard glanced at Lansha, who wore the same serious expression. He couldn't help thinking that he'd fallen into the hands of some kind of odd religious cult, yet Lansha had seemed so normal when they'd first met. 'Felt what?' he asked cautiously.

'The tremors.'

There had been many tremors of varying degrees of severity during his incarceration. He'd asked Geeja about them, but she'd always told him not to worry, that Phylacos was built near a fault line but the tremors were never too serious. Surely, Akalus couldn't be to blame for those…although, he hadn't felt a single quake since he'd left Phylacos. 'Yeah…I've felt them.'

'Akalus' anger creates them. When his temper flares, it agitates the energy of everything he's in contact with…even the very ground he stands on.'

Sheppard couldn't help but think that was just another fairy tale. No one could actually do that…could they? Geeja had told him the area was prone to tremors because Phylacos was built on some kind of fault line. That was a far more plausible explanation. No person he'd ever met possessed that kind of control over nature.

'So, Akalus created the time travel ships to go back in time and find a human to help him with his _destiny_?' Sheppard clarified, deftly changing the subject.

'No, Akalus may have many skills, but he did not have that capability,' Lansha told him, shaking his head.

'So, who made the ships?'

'The Kheprians.'

Sheppard frowned. The big, ugly bugs could manipulate time? Surely, that couldn't be right? He'd always thought of them as the hired help, mindless thugs to provide Akalus' with muscle to keep the prisoners in check. 'And they agreed to help Akalus destroy the universe and built him these time-travel ships to harvest humans?'

'No,' both Lansha and Goronak replied.

Sheppard's shoulders slumped. He'd thought he was finally beginning to grasp what this was all about, but apparently not.

'The Kheprians are not bad as a species –' Lansha tried to explain, but he was cut short by a burst of near choking laughter from Sheppard.

'You try telling that to the humans in Phylacos. I think they might have a different opinion.'

'We understand they are cruel captors, but _you_ must understand it is only under instruction from Akalus that they act the way they do. They are naturally very peaceful, hardworking creatures, not native to this planet. They are only here because Akalus demands it.'

Sheppard laughed again. 'Well, they're big and vicious enough to take care of themselves, so why would they listen to him?' he asked.

'They do it because Akalus holds sway over them. How he does that, we do not exactly know, but we believe the source of his power is hidden somewhere beneath the compound. When they first came here they were peaceful explorers, but now…now they serve only Akalus and his will.'

Peaceful explorers? Six months ago, he'd been just the same thing, in a puddle jumper on his way back from M4L 925 with his team. The Kheprians hadn't seemed very peaceful then, and they sure as hell weren't now. Sheppard shook his head, huffing out a laugh. 'I'm gonna need a little more convincing on that one. Geeja told me they were mercenaries. She said Akalus bought their services.'

'Who is Geeja?' Goronak asked.

'Geeja? She's a human girl. She works at Phylacos as some kind of servant. She brought me medicine when I was ill. Then the Reliquiae fixed me up…at least I think they did.'

'You think you could still be sick?'

'I dunno. I feel better than I did…but…' He shrugged. The thought he wasn't quite one hundred percent over the sickness had been nagging at him, but he'd been hoping the slight weakness and fatigue were down to malnourishment.

Lansha shot a worried glance at Goronak. The older man looked grave. He leaned over to Lansha and whispered something to him. A moment later the hybrid made his excuses to depart, leaving Sheppard alone with the Founder.

The old Birajan smiled and asked, 'Did she tell you anything else?'

'Uh…well…she told me a lot of things. She told me about the mining programme, the genetics programme, and the biosphere we're living in -'

'The what?' Goronak asked, clearly puzzled.

'The biosphere. The one that makes the air here breathable for humans and Birajans. That's why the Kheprians must wear masks in…the…compound…' Sheppard faltered over the final few words as he thought about the fact Lansha had just told him the Kheprians were the aliens on this planet, and Mishta and Juroah had transported him miles from Phylacos, as had the Reliquiae. Why hadn't he thought about that before…?

'There is no biosphere, Human,' Goronak said grimly, his pale lilac gaze burning hard into him. 'This is _our_ planet. _Our_ home. The atmosphere is elementally similar to Earth, I understand. We can breathe the air, you and I; it is the Kheprians who cannot. That is why they wear the masks.'

'But Geeja said I couldn't escape because of the limits of the biosphere. She said I would never get far enough away from the compound to avoid being recaptured.'

The old Birajan held his gaze a while, then simply said, 'She lied to you.'

Of course she did. And he'd been so sick he'd not bothered to question it. Sheppard pressed his lips hard together to stop the stream of expletives that were teetering on the tip of his tongue from spilling out. 'So much for being my friend,' he grumbled, the bitter sting of betrayal stabbing deep in his gut. How could he have been so wrong about her? Mehra had been suspicious right away, but he'd trusted her…because he'd been sick and had needed her help. He'd let his guard down. Akalus had sent the girl to watch over him because he was important to his plans. She'd never really been his friend at all.

Goronak smiled sympathetically, as if he felt his disappointment, too. 'A friend she may have been, but her loyalties ultimately lay with Akalus. She lied to you to keep you close to her master.'

'Why would she want that if she knows it could end the universe?'

'Because some believe it is an incredible honour to play such an important role in an event of this magnitude. They believe after the destruction, they will be born again to a better life in a new and improved universe. Akalus has convinced them it will be so.'

'You're kidding!'

Goronak looked confused.

'I meant, you're making a joke, right?'

He shook his head. 'Sadly, no. Many believe the scriptures are a message to tell them of the part they play in what is to come. But a few of us, those who reside at this camp, believe it is a warning – a chance for us to prevent universal destruction. We know differently because of what his previous host told us. Her visions were confused. We know his plans include the death of a star and assistance from someone of Lantean origin, but she couldn't be clear what happens. What she did know is that this is not the first time we have been near to disaster. He has come close to succeeding twice before, but something has always failed. And we're fortunate because he lies. All Akalus wants is the death of all life as we know it. And for that reason, he has to be stopped. This difference in views has created civil unrest for more years than I care to think of. Even if we stop him I doubt we will ever see peace again in my lifetime.'

'Well, I'm on your side, believe me,' Sheppard told him. 'I want no part in ending the universe…however the hell he plans to do that.'

'This Geeja is obviously a follower of the scriptures. You weren't to know she could not be trusted.'

Lansha returned just then, and set down a device Sheppard recognised. It was the same gadget his sister had employed on the ship to test him for enzyme. 'What's that for?' he asked.

'You said you were sick…we just want to make sure you are well now,' Lansha explained, but there was no masking the slight quiver in his voice. He was worried.

'Scared you're all gonna catch something nasty from me?' he asked, wincing as Lansha stuck the needle into his arm to take a sample of his blood.

With a shake of his head, Lansha removed the vial of blood from the syringe and inserted it into the machine for analysis, typing in some kind of search parameters for the device to work on. In mere seconds the holograph HUD beamed up a warning red message Sheppard couldn't read, along with an annoying little alarm.

Both Goronak and Lansha leaned in closer to read what it was telling them. Sheppard could tell from their demeanour that the news wasn't going to be good. 'I'm still sick, right?'

Lansha hesitated a moment, then nodded. 'The enzyme most likely helped to repair some of the damage done, but the disease is still present. It's an Ancient human sickness known as the weakening. We believe it affects the immune system and gradually destroys it to the point where you cannot withstand even the most basic of viruses.'

'Better stay back, then,' he half-joked, but in truth he was worried that Lansha might be at risk of catching it.

'I am not worried for myself,' Lansha told him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder as if to evidence that. 'My mixed heritage protects me against human diseases.'

'Oh…cool,' Sheppard murmured, but his mind had already shifted to the misery he knew was awaiting him when the sickness took hold of him again. And then it went a step further. Had he infected Mehra? Or any of the other humans he'd been near in Phylacos? 'But other humans can catch it?'

'It is particular to people of your genetic make-up…those with the Ancient gene,' Goronak informed him, still watching the holographic display. 'Your levels of infection are low…it will take a while for you to feel the full effects again.'

'Well…that's something,' Sheppard replied, trying to stay positive.

'We will simply have to get more enzyme,' Lansha announced, matter-of-fact. 'If enzyme holds the symptoms at bay, then that is what we need.'

'Lansha…' Goronak began. 'Listen to yourself. There is nothing simple about taking enzyme from the Reliquiae. You are talking about putting lives at risk…'

'He will die without it,' Lansha interrupted. 'And then if Akalus finds out he will seek out another. We will lose our advantage.'

The frown furrowing Goronak's brow looked even deeper in the poor light of the oil lamp. He pondered a while before saying, 'Perhaps his death is meant to be. Perhaps this is the gods intervening to stop Akalus themselves. Who are we to question that?'

'And who are we to assume we know the will of the gods?' Lansha was swift to counter. 'What if this isn't their doing and not saving the human is a mistake?'

'Bringing him back from the brink of death over and over is an act of cruelty!' Goronak charged, showing genuine passion for the first time.

'Or necessity.'

'Hey!' Sheppard grunted, interrupting them. 'I'm sitting right here. Don't I get a say in all this?'

His two companions looked at each other as if surprised by the suggestion, but Goronak gestured that he was free to speak.

'No one's dying on my account,' Sheppard told them, the firm slicing gesture of his hand leaving them in no doubt that that was not up for debate. 'If I need enzyme, I'll find some way to get it myself.'

'That would be most unwise,' Lansha insisted, his eyes huge with nervous insistence. 'We cannot risk the Reliquiae taking hold of you again.'

'Better them than Akalus,' Sheppard reminded them. 'You said yourself that he poses the greater risk.'

Lansha opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words.

'Gimme a ship, some directions and a gun and I'll go get the enzyme and be back for dinner,' he assured them.

They didn't look convinced. 'We cannot allow that,' Goronak said. 'You must remain here where we can protect you. What will be will be. If the gods wish for you to live, they will bring the enzyme to you.'

Once again, Sheppard felt his inner McKay sucking at his teeth and grumbling something about hokey religions. But he wasn't McKay, and he wasn't about to criticise another culture's faith in a divine being, tempting as it was. 'And if they don't, maybe we'll know I'm not the prophesied one after all.'

'There is no doubt of that,' Goronak assured him. He stood stiffly and went to the back of the shelter, opening up a chest as Lansha shut down the medical device and moved it aside. The older male returned with an electronic tablet, already fired up and illuminating his craggy features.

'This is a copy of the scripture,' he mumbled, almost to himself as he tapped at the screen and programmed in whatever it is he wanted Sheppard to see. 'It's a lengthy document, quite rambling at times. The female was left quite traumatised by her experience, but she was lucky…most simply do not survive. Akalus kills them when he no longer needs them. He slipped up with her. She was barely alive when she was discovered. But alive she was, and she was able to tell us everything she'd seen in Akalus' mind.' He stopped tapping and held the screen a little further from his eyes, as Sheppard remembered his father had often done with the financial pages when too lazy to find his reading glasses. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he passed the tablet to Sheppard.

There, in black and white, in amongst reams of text he could not read, was his name. Right there in the middle of the screen, bold and clear. Had the old Birajan just typed that in? It didn't seem like it; the whole process of turning it on and finding what he wanted had only taken a matter of seconds. But he couldn't be sure this wasn't some trick.

'It says, "There is one Akalus must not find. John Sheppard, The Wraith Slayer of old. Should he rise from the dead, he will bring destruction to all. With him the universe ends".'

A shiver ran the full length of Sheppard's spine. When he hadn't returned to Atlantis, the SGC would have declared him dead. That was standard procedure. So, was this him rising from the dead? A man whose death was officially recorded suddenly coming back into existence after several millennia? It seemed unlikely that it was mere coincidence that Goronak had used the exact same words Mishta had spoken to him earlier. She'd read them in the scripture…and that meant this wasn't something the old man had just concocted. But how had this Birajan woman known he would be the one to fulfil the prophecy all those years ago? Time travel really made his head ache….

Lansha came to stand at Goronak's side now. 'Your name strikes fear into the hearts of everyone in this camp,' he said, his voice barely registering above a whisper. 'That is why we do not speak it.'

Their reaction to his name yesterday made total sense in the face of this new information. And now Sheppard at last understood why Mishta hated him so much.

oooOOOooo

Mehra woke to find Liam crouching beside her mattress. His proximity startled her. 'What do you want?' she demanded, sitting up sharply.

'Nothing. It's just...there were some weird noises.'

She sat up and rubbed hard at her face. 'Yeah…you get used to them.'

'No…no…I really don't think I will,' he begged to differ.

As if to emphasise that fact, a lung-scraping scream echoed through the thick walls. He flinched, and she could read the question he left unspoken in his queasy expression. How loud did a scream have to be to get through walls like that?

'You'll be okay,' she assured him, although once again, she had no way of knowing if that was true. It just seemed like the right thing to say. 'Do whatever those bug guys tell you to do and you'll get through this…I promise.'

He nodded, but looked genuinely terrified. Sometimes she forgot how scary all this stuff had to be to the average person. When you'd faced down the Goau'ld, the Ori, then the Wraith and whatever-the-hell those freaking mutant things were that Michael had created and abandoned to run riot on that backwoods planet she couldn't even remember the name of now, the various sights, sounds and smells of this cesspit kind of washed over you. But she remembered Sheppard now, and how shook up he was each time he heard those noises. He'd seen a lot of action…even had a reputation for being pretty much unflappable…so would she end up that way too if she didn't get out of here? All the more reason to get out of here, she figured.

Suddenly, she became aware of sounds in the passageway outside their cell - footsteps, and quite a few of them. Someone, or rather several someones, were heading in their direction. She made her mind up there and then. She wouldn't end up sick and broken down like Sheppard. She was going to get out of here or die trying.

The cell door opened and Akalus stepped in, several guards accompanying him.

Mehra pressed her back to the wall. This was something she hadn't been expecting and it caught her off guard. 'Wow, I get a visit from the top dog himself, huh? I suppose I should feel honoured,' she quipped, with as much defiance as she could muster.

Akalus turned his masked head in her direction, but said nothing.

Her throat dried a little. Okay, so this guy kind of had the monopoly on intimidating silences, she'd give him that much.

Liam stayed where he was and did nothing, just as she'd told him to. The look on his face suggested he was too terrified to try anything anyway. That was fine by her; she didn't need to babysit the kid right now.

Unfortunately, doing nothing apparently wasn't going to be an option. Akalus turned to look at the young man cowering in the shadows and pointed at him. 'That one.'

The mechanical voice snapped Mehra into action. She bounced forward, putting herself between the guards and her new cell mate. 'No! I've been down here longer…take me,' she insisted, trying to protect him, but at the same time hoping that getting out of the cell would feed into her as yet indeterminate escape plans.

'No,' Akalus grunted, and the guards advanced on Liam at a gesture from his heavily gloved hand.

Remembering what Sheppard had done in his own battles with these bug critters, Mehra grabbed the first pincered hand that tried to move her shoved a raised boot into the Kheprian's abdomen, and yanked on the arm with all she had. She felt a pop, heard a shriek, and then the arm weighed heavier and she knew it had become detached. Not that that helped; the enraged bug just swung at her with one of his three remaining arms and clubbed her away from Liam, leaving him exposed for the others to grab.

Not about to be outdone, Mehra turned the now detached arm around and swung it hard at the alien that had floored her. The blow had little effect, only causing it to step back a little to steady itself before coming right back at her again.

Lifted from the floor, the next thing Mehra was aware of was impacting the wall hard…and upside down. Her head thudded into the floor and she gracelessly folded and flopped about until she found herself face down on the stinking concrete, pincers grasping her ankles and dragging her feet first across the cell. Then she was flipped over and before she could take one more swing she felt a thump against the front of both her shoulders that rendered her unable to respond.

It took a few seconds longer for her brain to compute the images her eyes were sending to it – to fully understand that the thin metal bars she could see protruding from the ceiling toward her were actually pinning her to the floor.

And then the pain kicked in…big time.

Again, it was with a weird sense of detachedness that she realised the screaming rattling her eardrums was coming from her. And amidst all that, Akalus stood over her, impassive.

Oddly, after a few minutes the pain became more bearable, as if her mind was swiftly adjusting to her new condition and accepting the agony as just another facet of her existence. She quieted, glaring at the tyrant standing over her. 'Feel good now?' she challenged, her voice ragged with controlled panic. 'You're supposed to be a big deal around here and yet it took…three bug dudes and these spikes to…uhnn –' she thumped her head back against the hard floor, unable to hold it up any longer, '– keep me down,' she finished through gritted teeth.

Unexpectedly, he squatted beside her, grasping her face in one armoured hand as he said, 'Why do you talk this way when you know I will make you suffer for it?'

'Screw you!' she hissed, spitting on his visor

Akalus didn't flinch, just thrust her head away, straining her wounds once more, and stood up tall again.

The air turned blue.

'Bring her to the laboratory and get her fixed,' Akalus ordered, stepping over Liam, who sat practically sobbing and rocking in shock on the floor. 'We can gather samples while she's there. This one will keep until later.'

The pins retracted from Mehra's shoulders, and the blood began to flow. The Kheprian guards picked her up by her wrists and ankles, piling on the misery, and the last thing she saw was Liam's pale and terrified face as the pain became unbearable and she blacked out on her way through the door.

* * *

 **A/N: A little later in the day than usual for me, but I've finally got this one done! Thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Even through the veil of his brooding anger, Akalus sensed Hakkar's approach before the Kheprian reached his office door. He rose from his seat to meet him as he entered.

'Well…did you find him?'

Hakkar shook his huge head. 'No, Master. We searched every inch of the fortress and scanned everywhere we could reach. There was no sign of the human.'

'Are you certain you checked everywhere? Did the Reliquiae not prevent you from accessing some areas?'

'They tried, Master,' Hakkar conceded. 'They put up fierce resistance, but soon realised we were the stronger. After an initial battle, they receded to the shadows and did nothing more to hinder us. Even without challenge, we were unable to locate the human.'

This was not what Akalus had hoped to hear. He had imagined his troops emerging triumphant with his human intact and rejuvenated. The floor shook, but Akalus did not let his anger loose this time. 'So, they were telling the truth…someone took him from them?'

'That would seem to be so…unless they moved him themselves.'

The shaking stopped, Akalus' anger diverted to other thoughts. 'Do you believe that is possible?'

Hakkar remained impassive. 'I do not know, Master. But if they wish you to believe they are innocent of deception, it is possible.'

Akalus nodded, deep in thought as he considered his next move. His dealings with the Reliquiae had been extremely limited since he had halted trade with them. Their bitterness at the way he had treated them when he'd cut off trade, effectively threatening their survival, and the attack on them when he drew them to Phylacos to save Sheppard could make them willing to carry out such a deception. It was certainly worth investigating.

'Speak with Bilta. Ask him to give you the locations of all known Reliquiae fortresses. Many of them haven't been in use for several decades, but they would make perfect hiding places for the human. Deploy as many of your troops as you can spare without compromising security here at Phylacos and get them searched.'

'It shall be done, Master,' Hakkar agreed, backing his way toward the door and leaving again.

But what if the Reliquiae didn't have the human? What then? Who else could have known about the human to take him from their Fortress at Agrastan?

No one.

The Reliquiae had to have him somewhere.

So, if the Kheprians were unsuccessful in their searches, what could he do to tempt the Reliquiae to hand Sheppard back? He returned to his seat, considering all he knew of the Reliquiae and their past. They were a proud race, and had once been a power to be reckoned with in Pegasus. But humans had interfered with the natural order of things, just as their original incarnation in this galaxy had. Could he blame the Reliquiae for wishing to resurrect their former glories? Of course not. Had he wronged them gravely in his attempts to fulfil his destiny? He had.

Was there another way to work with the Reliquiae then? To appease their anger and make them trust him enough to grant him access to the human when he needed him?

Perhaps…

Yes…perhaps…

The woman who had arrived with Sheppard. The one Valkalar had enquired after. She had the Wraith gene. And the one thing the Reliquiae wanted more than anything else was to be Wraith once again.

He would send for her to be brought to the laboratory and have his scientists work on extracting the Wraith DNA and isolating it. If they could do that, then if the searches were fruitless, he could offer up the gene as incentive for the Reliquiae to cooperate. And if they really didn't have Sheppard, experimenting with the DNA to produce the healing enzyme might be his next course of action. That way if he found Sheppard he wouldn't have to rely on the Reliquiae to keep him alive.

He gave the order to have the woman collected for DNA harvesting, rising from his chair to head to the laboratory himself to discuss what he needed with his scientists. It was a plan with only a slight chance of success; his scientists, though intelligent, were not by any means genii. But if they could offer the Reliquiae something, it might be enough to persuade them to let down their defences so he could snatch back the human if intel of his whereabouts should arise.

And then it struck him.

Perhaps he wouldn't need the Reliquiae's co-operation at all. He had something far better than that…potentially. He had the Kheprian time ships. And although they couldn't accurately pick a time to travel to, only a specific point to return to based on departure data, he was also in possession of a man who just might be able to rectify that little problem.

He hadn't checked in on Dr McKay for a whole day and more now. This seemed like an excellent time to pay him a visit.

oooOOOooo

Ronon rode the elevator down to the mines, his body tense, heart thundering, his now broken shard of mirror in one hand and the Kheprian baton in the other. He was still a little out of breath, and weakened by the fight that took down the Kheprians who had planned to take this elevator ride, but he remained determined to get to Teyla.

As the car juddered to a halt he got himself ready to act, not knowing what would greet him when the doors pulled back. When they did, he was thankful to see no Kheprians waiting to enter, only a solitary guard standing several yards away with his back to the elevator, watching the humans work.

The sounds of the mine sent a shudder through Ronon. For six months that had been all he'd known. But now, not only did they chill him, but they also incentivised him, filling him with the drive he needed to take on the Kheprian and slip his way over to where Teyla mined.

Stuffing the baton into the waist of his trousers, Ronon took what remained of his shard of mirror and crept up behind the Kheprian sentinel, attacking him just as he had the first Kheprian on the higher level, by cutting his air pipes. But this time, rather than abandoning him to flail and struggle where he might be seen, he heaved the great bulk of a bug backward, toppling him before dragging him to a craggy outcrop of rocks behind which he could conceal him. The noise of the mines covered the alien's laboured, choking cries as it clawed at the severed pipes, no doubt realising its death was imminent.

Ronon stepped over the prostrate form and crouched to check if any other guard had seen their colleague was missing. Everything appeared to be continuing as normal, humans chipping away at stone and filling their mine carts as far as the eye could see under the watchful oversight of their Kheprian guards. How he loathed those creatures. If he thought he could take them all down and free everyone he would do it in a heartbeat, but he wasn't strong enough for that. All he could do was try to get Teyla out and hope they could find their way back to Atlantis where they could ask for reinforcements to turn this place upside down and free the other slaves.

Because that's what they were…slaves. He hadn't thought of it that way when he'd been one of the oppressed, but now, watching on as a free man he realised this wasn't a case of imprisonment, but slave labour. No one had the right to do this to others. These humans weren't enemy soldiers – they'd done nothing wrong. Most likely they simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as they had. How long some of them had endured this existence didn't bear thinking about. And he couldn't waste his focus on it. All he could do for them right now was do his best to get out of there and carry word of the hidden crimes to others.

Staying low, Ronon began to travel around the outskirts of the huge pit. Teyla was some distance away around the circumference and some several tiers down, but if he was careful there were plenty of places to conceal himself en route to her.

Time and again Ronon was forced to hide as the Kheprians changed course in their patrols, and time and again incredulous humans watched slack-jawed as he signalled for them to remain silent while he hid in their tunnels until it was safe to move on.

Eventually, he was within a level of Teyla's tunnel, could even hear her digging from where he crouched. All he had to do was wait a minute or two for the patrols to turn their backs and head in the other direction.

But that was when they came. Two guards strode out from the direction he had come in, heading his way at a much faster pace than he had been able to keep. They crossed the mine with speed and purpose, forcing Ronon to seek cover in a tunnel with a young girl who would have screamed in shock had he not slapped his hand over her mouth to stifle it. He pressed a finger to his lips then looked back out of the tunnel opening, watching the guards, worried that he'd been spotted and they were on their way to recapture him.

Thankfully, they passed on by without a single glance in his direction. Apparently, he wasn't the reason they were here.

The sense of relief he experienced at that realisation lasted only a few seconds longer when the two of them journeyed down to Teyla's tunnel and screeched for her to come out to face them.

Ronon watched on in horror, fearful from the pitch of their demand that Teyla was in some kind of trouble and she was about to be punished. But when Teyla emerged, looking tired and pale, all they did was grab her by the arms and whisk her away as quickly as they could walk.

For a split second Ronon considered launching an attack, but out in the open of the mines he had little chance of success. By the time he could subdue the two guards escorting Teyla, several others would converge on him, ending any plans he had for escape. No, he was going to have to practice some more of that patience he was so lacking in. He wouldn't be able to keep up with these guards, or follow them to the elevator they used with the prisoners, but if he got himself back out of this level he might be able to track Teyla down again.

The girl behind him leaned forward and whispered. 'I wonder where they're taking her.'

Ronon had no answer for her. He chose his moment and darted out across to Teyla's now abandoned tunnel, snatching up her pick to arm himself before making his journey back to the elevator. At least now he felt better armed for whatever battles might lie ahead. Because one way or another he and Teyla were leaving this place, and he would prefer it to be while they were still breathing.

oooOOOooo

Through the mist of her pain, Mehra felt herself deposited onto a solid surface, possibly metallic, though she couldn't focus enough to be certain. Opening her eyes, she recognised the surroundings of the laboratory as the Kheprians pulled off her jacket, t-shirt and bra, and strapped her face-down to immobilise her. She'd always thought of herself as tough, able to tolerate high levels of pain, but this…this went way beyond her known threshold. This was pain times one thousand…scratch that and make it a million. They handled her with zero regard for her well-being. No one here gave a damn for her screams.

She hadn't imagined things could get much worse for her, but unfortunately they were about to.

The Birajan doctors huddled around her, prodding and poking her injuries, and scanning to get a clear picture of the damage. Though she had no idea what they were jabbering about, the scans she caught sight of showed that though one pin had gone straight through her tissue and bone, making a clean hole, the other had split her left shoulder blade in two. And what she'd been able to tell from the feel of her clothes was there was blood, and lots of it. If they didn't stem it soon she would bleed out right there on that table.

She now discovered that patients of the Phylacos laboratory did not enjoy the luxury of anaesthetics. Mehra was instead fitted with a mask that covered her face and forced a metal bar into her mouth. This would provide the only pain relief for the agony they were about to inflict it seemed. She prayed to God that she would pass out again instead, but apparently He had other things he was busy with because she stayed present and agonised as the treatment began.

Firstly, the vessels that had ruptured in the entry wounds were cauterised to stop the blood from flowing. She knew that because the combination of the stench of burning meat and the bar forcing down her tongue made her retch and almost vomit, the fear of choking the only thing helping her to ride it out. Then they applied large quantities of gelatinous ointment to both entry wounds, effectively filling the holes. Whatever the hell it was made of, all she knew was that it stung like a bitch.

As she screamed into her mouth-bar, the Kheprians helped to roll her over and secure her again, so the Birajans could carry out the same treatment on the back of her right shoulder. But the left one proved far worse. She felt them cutting at her skin and tissues, ripping more screams from her already shredded lungs. A piercing drilling sound cut through her cries and from the way they pulled and tugged and manipulated her shoulder around she guessed they might be pinning the bones she'd seen split apart on the images. Then that God-awful smell of her body cooking again reached her nose, forcing her to breathe solely through her mouth to reduce its effects. Then came an anticeptic ointment, one that brought tears to eyes she thought couldn't possible spill another drop. The only mercy was that the Birajan doctors were fast and efficient. They only caused her the most stomach-wrenchingly, brain-explodingly awful pain for a short time. Then it was done.

Removing her mask, they left her restrained face down and silently sobbing on the medical table to give her worst injury time to settle after its reparation. She'd thought she might die from the sheer agony of the treatment, but now, unable to move and with the pain subsiding to a constant, nauseating ache, she realised she wasn't going to be that lucky. She was most likely going to survive to be punished another day.

She wondered how long they planned to leave her in the lab. At least the treatment table here seemed reasonably clean, aside from her own blood. Why the hell hadn't she listened to Sheppard? He'd warned her not to push them too far. She's always been an idiot that way.

Now the thought of Sheppard had entered her head, it lay heavily on her. She wondered what the Reliquiae had done to him - whether he had even survived the flight to their home. He'd been so weak when she'd last seen him that she doubted he'd made it. But if he had, what was he enduring at their hands? She'd seen the barbarity they were capable of; perhaps it was best not to dwell on things she had no hope of changing.

Yet, dwell on it she did.

He'd suffered what she'd just been put through and been cut up for genetic samples who knew how many times. All this on top of the sickness that had been gradually killing him. That condition alone would have been more than enough to cope with in such an awful place. No wonder he'd been so broken when they'd thrown her in that cell with him. It wasn't down to weakness…they simply robbed him of everything he had to give.

Her head swam out of focus for a moment, most likely through blood loss she figured. So now she was going to pass out? She told her brain its timing sucked. But she didn't plan to fight it. Any relief from this misery was welcome.

With a massive effort, she twisted her head to the other side in an attempt to make herself more comfortable. Having screwed her eyes tight against the discomfort of the movement, it was only upon opening them she saw who lay in the bed beside hers.

Teyla.

She was unconscious and so pale Mehra thought for one horrible, panic-filled moment that she was dead. Then, she spotted the minimal but regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and she realised Teyla was very much alive.

'Teyla,' she hissed. 'Teyla!'

But Teyla didn't flinch, not even a flutter of her eyelids. She had to be sedated. Oh right, so she got the sedatives? But Mehra wasn't deserving? Of course, the sergeant realised bitterly, Teyla was in a far better condition for mounting an escape by the looks of her. That was probably the reason they'd knocked Teyla out, but left her to suffer

The room spun again, and Mehra realised she was going to pass out whether she wanted to or not. She tried to call out one last time, but couldn't even form Teyla's name before a veil of blackness took her out of commission.

oooOOOooo

It was no surpise to find Mishta glaring at him from a small group of Birajans as Lansha led Sheppard out of his shelter later that morning. Her brother had loaned him a large hooded coat to wear, one that would make him appear Chapellan to anyone watching him. It covered most of his face and shielded her from the fact he was watching her reactions as he crossed the clearing. Sheppard decided not to antagonise her based on the information Goronak had imparted to him. Her anger came from fear, and challenging her would most likely just reinforce that worry in her.

There were three other males gathered together with her, one being Juroah. The other two were younger males, both of them well-built and fit-looking specimens, albeit somewhat shorter than her. He had no doubt they could hold their own in a fight, and he had to wonder if they were there to protect or control him after his earlier outburst of temper. He kind of regretted that now…

'I hope the human is in a better frame of mind,' Mishta called to her brother as they approached, folding her arms as she stared at him. 'We can little do with his temper while at the market.'

'I'm over it,' he assured her, drawing the attention of the whole group to him.

Mishta didn't look too sure, pursing her lips in an 'I doubt that' kind of way, but she relaxed her stance a little all the same. It was a minor concession, but a concession all the same.

The two younger males, however, remained clearly unconvinced, both of them resting their hands on the butts of their holstered guns. Sheppard comforted himself with the fact they were still holstered, as was Mishta's weapon. That was a step forward…even if only a small one.

'Do we have everything we need?' Lansha asked as they came to a standstill in front of the others. The two young males stepped aside and revealed five small packs sitting on the dusty, dry earth behind them.

'All here,' the slightly taller of the two announced, nudging one bag with his boot. 'They should fetch a good price…although _he_ would fetch a far better one,' he added, nodding his head Sheppard's way.

'The human is not for sale,' Mishta snapped, pushing him aside a little to snatch up the bag closest to her. 'As you have already been told.'

'I'm sure Marmotah is only joking,' Juroah said calmly, casting the younger male a warning look.

'Of course,' Marmotah agreed, but the sideways glance he cast Sheppard that he obviously thought went unnoticed left him doubtful of the Birajan's sincerity. Sheppard decided there and then that this Marmotah was one to keep his eye on.

'We should be on our way,' Juroah said cheerfully, picking up a pack and marching toward a pathway through the trees. 'If we wait too long the money will all be spent!'

The other three picked up their bags and, at a gesture from Lansha, Sheppard followed them all out of the village. Of course, Mishta watched him closely as he passed her, taking up the rear in the group as if to keep an eye on him. He had no doubt that was exactly her plan, and he couldn't actually blame her. His behaviour had done little to boost her confidence in him.

A few hundred yards from the main camp they approached the craft Mishta and Juroah had brought him there in yesterday. Flutters stirred in his gut, and a weird tingling ignited in his fingers. After six months of incarceration he was itching to fly something…anything…and this was different to anything he'd flown before. Maybe he could sit up front with Juroah and see how it all worked. A shove in his back as he hovered near the older Birajan on boarding told him that wasn't going to be an option. He allowed Mishta to push him further back in the craft and into a seat before she surprised him by taking the chair right beside him. She stared straight ahead, her jaw set.

 _So…not in the mood for talking,_ he figured. But that wasn't about to stop him from trying.

'Uh…about earlier,' he began, waiting to gauge her reaction.

She turned her head toward him, her expression still hard.

'I wanted to apologise for losing it the way I did. Knowing what I know now, I realise it must have scared you –'

The instant he said it, he knew that had been a bad choice of words. He both felt and saw her entire body tense. 'I'm not afraid of you…' she growled, keeping her voice low enough that the others paid no heed. 'It's your weakness that dooms us all.'

'My weakn –' He stopped himself from biting. He really didn't want to fight with her again.

She faced front and centre again, continuing to fume.

'I'm not going to just willingly go along with whatever this Akalus guy has in mind,' he told her, starting again. 'I'm not the type to just roll over and give up.'

'And yet you allowed yourself to be captured and imprisoned at Akalus' mercy,' she hissed, still staring out of the wind shield. 'That is not exactly inspiring in terms of resistance.'

Ok, he had to concede he'd walked right into that one. 'We were overwhelmed by numbers…we had no chance –'

Her head snapped around again. 'Then you should have died trying.'

'Wasn't given the choice.'

She sucked her teeth and looked away.

'I suppose you've never found yourself in an impossible situation?' he smirked, watching as her jaw clenched tight at his question.

'Never,' she asserted.

'Well, be glad you've led such a charmed life, and hope to whatever Gods you people pray to that you never find yourself in a hell-hole like that place. There are no choices there. You live if they want you to, and likewise, you die _only_ if they want you to. Spend a few days there…then judge me.'

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a little of that tension slackening. He'd got through to her, even if just a tiny bit. He could see it whether she wanted him to or not. A glisten of vulnerability showed in her eyes and she was forced to turn to look away toward the other side of the craft.

Beyond her, Sheppard saw Marmotah casting him a murderous look. Apparently, he too could see her upset. And he knew exactly where to lay the blame.

'Mishta, could I sit there?'

Lansha's request came as a welcome interruption to the tension building in the rear of the craft. Sheppard looked up at the young hybrid, who was standing over them with an intense 'Don't argue about this' expression etched into his face. He sensed some resistance in Mishta, as if she felt her brother was too soft to keep him under control, but after only a minor hesitation, she acquiesced and vacated the seat.

'Are you all right?' Lansha asked as he filled the space left beside Sheppard.

'As good as anyone can expect to be after the bombshell you guys just dropped on me,' he quipped, feeling the heaviness in his heart the truth had burdened him with. They were not only thousands of miles, but thousands of years from home, and Torren was long gone, never having seen his mother again. That was hard to stomach, and he'd been doing battle with that thought since discovering the truth.

'I'm sorry…it must be very difficult for you…'

'Not your fault,' Sheppard interjected. 'So…do those guys know who I am?' he asked, thumbing over to the two Birajan males still staring daggers in his direction.

Lansha gave a quick shake of the head. 'No, those of us present when you spoke your name swore not to mention it to anyone else, and it would be better for you not to spread it either. Fear is like fire; it spreads swiftly if given enough oxygen and is hard to contain. We cannot risk losing focus now.'

Sheppard nodded. He understood that. As a leader, there had been times when he'd had to select just how much information it was essential to share, and what was overkill and likely to cause problems. He got that. His name was overkill for this movement. They didn't need to know just how accurate their scriptures were. All the other members needed to know was that Akalus needed him, and they needed to keep him from being discovered. Which was why he didn't entirely understand why this little trip out of camp was necessary, but who was he to argue? It might present him with an opportunity to slip away and head back to retrieve his friends, so he wasn't about to refuse. 'So, what's the cave visit all about?'

'The Ancient ones left a number of devices behind when they fled the galaxy, many of which have become hidden over time. The Greekaf caves were opened up a little over a decade ago and once the entrance way was cleared it became apparent that it was actually part of an old Ancient facility housing advanced technologies. But we cannot operate it…it requires someone with a strong connection to the Ancients…someone like you, we believe.'

'What if activating it will be dangerous?' he asked. 'I've come across a lot of things the Ancients left behind, and not all of them are good.'

'Of course…you lived in Atlantis,' Lansha said softly, the words sending a chill down Sheppard's spine. Lansha spoke as if he were a figure from a bedtime story, not a real person. He wondered how much all of these people knew of the _Wraith Slayer_. Was he a nightmare character used to scare children around the campfire at night? After all, with him, the universe ended. It didn't get much scarier than that.

'Yeah…and it's a great place, don't get me wrong. But it damn near killed us a couple of times. You can't just go activating Ancient tech and damn the consequences. What if this thing will help Akalus?'

The fact Lansha's jaw dropped a fraction suggested he hadn't even considered that possibility. 'I…I…'

'Hey, I'm not saying no to this plan,' Sheppard interrupted, realising the question had stumped his companion. 'Just…just listen if I say activating it might be a problem.'

Giving it a moment of thought, Lansha nodded his agreement. 'That sounds acceptable…but be warned, Mishta is exceptional good at spotting lies. Don't try to fool her.'

He glanced across at her, just as she leapt from her seat and snatched a Wraith weapon from Marmotah. 'Turn that off, you idiot! Do you want to bring the Reliquiae down on us all?'

The male smirked, drinking in her anger with a weird aura of covetousness. 'Now, now, Mishta. It was only for a second. I doubt they would have noticed anything.'

'Let's hope for your sakes they didn't, because it won't be me they come hunting for,' she growled, stuffing the gun back into his pack before sullenly dropping back into her seat.

'She's a feisty one, Marmotah. Definitely the right match for you,' the young man beside Marmotah grinned.

'Why do you think I agreed to the commitment, Falahn?' Marmotah shouted back to him, in a theatrically loud voice. 'It's times like these that make me yearn for our union night.'

Mishta groaned and closed her eyes, looking genuinely repulsed as she sank lower in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself. Sheppard felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, despite their differences.

'So Mishta and that guy are getting married?'

Lansha frowned, then smiled. 'Yes…I believe that is what my father called The Commitment.'

'She doesn't seem too happy about it,' Sheppard said, peering across at her where she continued to keep her eyes closed. He thought he might actually have seen a tear escape and roll down her cheek.

'One thing you must have noticed about Mishta by now is that she's never happy. This is just one more thing for her to be unhappy about,' Lansha joked.

But Sheppard wasn't laughing. Sure. Mishta was a grouch, but this was different. She looked…defeated.

'I've noticed she gets mad a lot,' he agreed, 'but this is something else.'

The smile slipped from Lansha's face and he looked over toward his sister for the first time, turning back toward Sheppard with the first hints of guilt colouring his complexion. 'The commitment agreement was signed many years ago. It's a binding document under our laws.'

'Many years ago?' Sheppard asked, aghast. 'Neither of them could have been more than kids!'

'Matches are made when we are quite young. There are contests to find a match and Marmotah was it.'

'And what about you? Do you have a commitment date set?' Sheppard asked, trying hard not to sound as judgemental as he suspected he might.

'Uh…no…no,' now Lansha's face glowed red, and the faint outlines of scales appeared along his hairline as they flushed with blood. 'I…do not find solace in the company of females.'

'Oh,' Sheppard replied dumbly. It hadn't even occurred to him that Lansha might be gay. And apparently openly so. 'Well…it's good that your people are so accepting of that.'

'Yes…though I cannot understand why anyone wouldn't be. Perhaps it's a human thing. My father didn't seem comfortable when I told him. We never spoke of it again after my announcement. Of course, he only lived another six months after that, and he wasn't healthy for many of those final weeks, so there wasn't much opportunity to discuss it.'

'Maybe he was an old-fashioned kinda guy. That stuff doesn't always sit too well with them,' Sheppard empathised. He remembered his own dad's views on those kinds of things. There wasn't much tolerance to be had as far as he recalled.

'I regret telling him every day. If I had just held my tongue for a few months longer, my father would still have respected me when he passed.'

Now regrets and patriarchal disapproval he understood only too well. Sheppard nodded, and looked out of the window, not really sure what to say. He had no problem with the admission, but it had taken the wind out of his sails for the moment. Mishta's plight would have to be discussed another time…if he didn't manage to lose them in the market.

They passed from lush landscape to barren wasteland. As they travelled, Lansha pointed out various landmarks and indigenous animals to him, filling the otherwise tense journey with friendly and jovial conversation, as was his manner. Sheppard took it all in, casually asking what direction Phylacos lay in compared to one of the more memorable sights, a huge rock formation that had eroded into the somewhat grotesque resemblance of a Birajan face. The news that it was approximately twenty miles south east of that point wasn't the best news Lansha could have given him, but it wasn't an impossible task, especially since soon after they began a steady decline in height. The ground was getting gradually closer and he heard the engine pitch change so he knew they were coming in to land. Below them, dust swirled up in billowing clouds, stirred up by the engines as they descended.

'Looks like we're here,' Lansha said, rising from his seat. 'Now we just have to hope this trader is as generous as you claim, Marmotah.'

'He'll pay well,' the young male replied with arrogant certainty. 'You have my word on that.'

'Just like we had your word not to fire up any of the Wraith weapons?' Lansha asked, his incisive question momentarily halting the other male's conceit.

But Marmotah soon bounced back. 'I had to test the merchandise, and better out here than back at camp.'

'Except that the Reliquiae want the human almost as much as Akalus does, and your actions gave away our position should they be monitoring for clues,' Mishta snapped back at him.

Again, Marmotah looked momentarily chastened, but the effect didn't last for long. 'Well, we've journeyed on some since then. So, they won't be able to find us now, will they?'

He pushed Mishta back into her seat from which she had risen, picked up his bag and strode back. Sheppard tensed in unison with her, almost as incensed by his behaviour as she had to be. It seemed as if she noticed, and she gave him a quizzical look as if asking why he was so bothered. He decided it best to let it slide and just see this little trip to market through. If he started trouble now, they'd be so focused on him there would be little chance of making a break for it.

As Lansha gathered up his own sack of goodies Sheppard made to follow him off the craft. A hand suddenly gripping his arm stopped him before he got more than a couple of steps.

Mishta spun him around to face her, then tugged his hood up so it covered the majority of his face. Her gaze lingered on him just a little longer than seemed necessary as she examined her work. Then she said, 'You never know who's watching,' and turned him around again, giving him a push toward the front of the craft.

The late morning heat was stifling as he breathed it in, and now the disguise didn't seem such a great plan after all. He could hear distant voices and saw what looked like it might be a market a way off in the distance, but it was a good half a mile walk away, and he was already sweating beneath his heavy cloak.

'Couldn't park it any closer, huh?' he asked, watching a smirk spread on Juroah's face as he disembarked and then set a small box down on the ground in front of the ship.

'We cannot risk the craft being recognised in the future. The fewer tracks we leave to follow, the safer our movement remains.

He stepped back and slipped what looked like a small remote from his pocket, keying in a code of some kind. In an instant, the ship disappeared.

'Still using cloaking tech, huh?' Sheppard asked, moving forward to feel for the solid metal hull. It was there, giving a satisfying metallic ring as he wrapped on it. 'That was all the rage say…seventy thousand years ago, but I guess it's still cool.'

'What does temperature have to do with it?' Mishta demanded.

He turned to look at them, seeing the confusion on all of their faces. 'Uh…I just meant it was…clever,' he explained, dropping his hand back to his side.

'So why didn't you just say that?' she asked, striking out in the direction of the shelters he'd spotted.

'Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am,' he murmured, a little annoyed at the laughter of the others as they all followed in her wake.

'Don't worry,' you get used to her moods after a while, 'Juroah promised him, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder as he passed.

Lansha was the only one to show any genuine sympathy once he has stifled his amusement. 'I'm sure she _will_ warm to you eventually,' he told Sheppard as he gestured for him to walk ahead of him.

'Yeah…maybe,' he grumbled, swiping a sleeve across his forehead to dry away the beads of sweat already rolling down it.

'She hasn't killed you yet…that's a good sign,' Lansha called from just behind his left shoulder, as if that was supposed to be of some comfort.

Sheppard glanced back, casting him a withering look from the shadow of his voluminous hood. Though there was no way Lansha could see his expression, he chuckled anyway, hoisting the pack onto his back and falling in step behind him.

Sheppard suspected this was going to be a more taxing day than he'd first imagined. It turned out the Birajans had a sense of humour after all, and apparently he was going to be the butt of most of their jokes.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoy the update. To Julie, my reviewer who asked about more whump, there will be more, I promise! Thanks to everyone for sticking with the story. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tamrak carried Prince Valkalar's midday meal to him on an elaborately engraved silver tray, knowing his master would expect nothing less. As he opened the door, Valkalar's pet griffid, Pamit, fluttered about its cage, stretching its pretty blue feathers and bursting into sweet, cheerful song. Its behaviour was in complete contrast to its owner, who sat moodily hunched before a holodisplay, scrutinising data. He remained unresponsive for the first several times Tamrak called his name.

Eventually, Tamrak's voice broke through his hyper-focus, and he peered back over his shoulder at him. 'What is it, Tamrak?' he snapped impatiently, seemingly unaware of just how long his servant had been there.

'I have your meal, Prince,' he replied, holding up the tray for him to see.

That instantly improved the prince's mood. 'Ahhhh. Good. I'm hungry.' He stood up and straightened out his clothes. 'Put it beside the bed.'

As he set it there, Tamrak noticed the book lying open on his master's bed. He only caught a quick glimpse of its contents, but it appeared to be instructions on how to access another person's thoughts. He dreaded to think what his master had been doing, these were abilities some Birajans had nurtured but that they had been forbidden to practice over the ages. If anyone found out what he was doing, the prince could be in serious trouble.

'If that is all, Prince, I will retire to eat my own meal,' he said hopefully, wanting no part of whatever the Prince was involved in.

'Stay a while, Tamrak,' the Prince insisted, sitting on the bed and patting the space beside him.

Tamrak sighed. This was not a good sign. Valkalar was only ever charitable when he required him to do something dangerous. That eventuality had become all too real since he'd developed his unhealthy interest in the forbidden arts and technologies.

'Do you require something, my Prince?' he asked as he sat, reluctant to waste time on their usual games.

'I have just checked Akalus' prisoner files,' Valkalar grinned, evidently extremely pleased with himself.

The servant's heart sank. 'Is that not extremely dangerous considering your last meeting with him, my prince?'

Valkalar huffed his disgust at being reminded of that. 'He doesn't frighten me…besides he won't know…he didn't realise I'd been in his database many previous times. He's nothing more than an egotist flexing his muscles. He has no genuine insight.'

Tamrak couldn't help but think that reminded him of someone he was currently speaking to. 'And what did you find in the files, my Prince?'

'I found her.'

'Who?'

'The Wraith girl.'

'Oh…I see.'

'She has been removed from the mines and is being taken to the laboratory for genetic harvesting.'

'How will we use this information, my prince?'

'If we know where she is, we can get in and out of Phylacos with her easily,' the prince replied, matter-of-fact.

'We?' Tamrak asked tentatively.

Valkalar grinned. 'Well, when I say _we_ , I of course mean _you_.'

Tamrak couldn't suppress his sigh. 'I thought that might be so, my Prince. But how will I get inside? They will know I do not belong there the instant they see me.'

A patronising smile crept onto Valkalar's smug face. 'You assume you will be entering there in your present form.'

That was true. He had made that assumption because he had no idea how to be anything else. 'What other form is there, my Prince?' he asked, certain the answer would involve something unsavoury.

'I have a device that can turn you into anything you please, but as we are trying to infiltrate Phylacos and steal away the girl, I think a Birajan scientist would be most appropriate, don't you?'

The servant's heart sank. 'You can really do that?' Tamrak breathed.

'There are many things I can do now. All I needed was time to research and learn. Of course, I haven't used the device before…and it is very, very old.'

Tamrak's violet eyes grew wide with fear beneath his thick, scaled brows. 'You _will_ test it before I use it won't you, my Prince? If not and it fails, I will be imprisoned.'

'Oh, if you insist,' Valkalar sighed theatrically. 'I suppose there's no point in losing a good servant like you for the sake of an hour or so more.'

Tamrak gave an involuntary shudder. 'You plan to do this so soon, my prince?'

Valkalar's expression darkened at the question. 'I need that girl. Her genetics will enable me to become more powerful than Akalus himself,' he growled, betraying the true nature of his obsession. 'And think of the things I could achieve with a Wraith army at my command. It would would be immeasurable. A little tampering here and there with her DNA, and she will give me a constant supply of what I need…all that _and_ she is pleasing on the eye, too, don't you think, Tamrak?'

He shrugged. 'I have never thought of a human in that way, my Prince…'

'You should, Tamrak. The feeling is most…stimulating.'

Tamrak knew the Prince was allowing personal emotions to cloud his judgement. He'd heard that humans could have that effect, and it troubled him – especially since he would be the one taking the risks to acquire her. 'If you allow these feelings to overtake your logic, Prince, someone could get hurt.'

The rotund little male shrugged. 'That may be so, but as I do not intend to leave the safety of my palace, it will not be me.'

Tamrak resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His master had always been shallow and thoughtless. He couldn't feign surprise at Valkalar's lack of concern.

'If your device works, and I am able to find the human girl, how will I remove her from Phylacos?'

'Using this,' Valkalar held up another item – a seemingly weird combination of biological and mechanical parts all interwoven under a membranous outer sheath – and showed it to him. 'I picked this up recently, though it was originally somewhat larger. A little tinkering by our very talented scientists and now I am the proud owner of the very latest…or perhaps earliest…in portable matter transferal technology. If you have something large you need to move, such as an attractive human female, you simply take this from your pocket, aim the panel on its base toward the thing you are hunting, and press this button.' The device opened a little, and a brilliant light shone out from its innards, swallowing his griffid whole in mid-song, 'and whatever creature it is aimed at is dematerialised and stored within its core. 'Then, just slip her into your pocket, and walk away.'

Tamrak took the device from Valkalar and examined it, careful not to touch any of the buttons on its sides. He felt the sheer force of the energy field within it set his skin tingling. 'Ingenious, my prince. It must have been very expensive.'

'Should have been, but I stole it…or rather I paid some local youths to do it for me.'

'From whom?'

'The Reliquiae. All of their small ships are fitted with these devices. When two of them visited the Rammarant for trade some years back, I kept them busy while I had my little mercenaries lift this from their vessel.'

'You stole from the Reliquiae?' Tamrak gasped, setting the device down as if he thought they could trace him by his contact with it. 'What were you thinking of?'

'I was thinking it might come in useful some time - and I was right,' the prince boasted, picking it from where he'd left it and tossing it casually from one hand to another. 'Don't concern yourself, Tamrak. They did not see me. They will never know I was the culprit. They probably haven't even noticed it was missing. My little thieves were very careful to leave all looking as they found it.'

He aimed the device toward the cage and reversed the process. The griffid appeared back on its perch…then promptly fell off it, unconscious and showing no signs of movement other than a slight rise and fall to show he was still breathing.

'Hmmm, the process doesn't seem to be entirely agreeable,' the prince mused, tapping the device thoughtfully against his chin. 'Still, Pamit is alive, if comatose. That is all I need. That, and a larger cage. See to it that one is brought to my room.'

'Yes, my Prince. I will organise that immediately.' And while someone else brought him the cage, Tamrak intended to make himself scarce…perhaps even seek new employment outside of the region.

'Very good…and don't do anything foolish, Tamrak. You know I can find you, wherever you hide.'

'O…of course not, my Prince,' he stammered, so startled he could barely find the correct words. Only now did Tamrak notice the blue veins pulsing in the sides of his master's neck and up into his temple. Some dark force was at work within him. He had read his thoughts as easily as if he'd spoken them aloud. The look the Prince now gave his servant was so piercing that he felt his brain begin to buzz as if someone had severely shaken him. The prince had been tampering with some other arts, it seemed…something that had expanded his mind in disturbing ways. His master had a troubling habit of tinkering with things best left undisturbed. This one was the most worrying yet. 'You know I will always serve you faithfully,' Tamrak added, dipping his head respectfully before leaving the room.

That was the truth; after what he had just seen he was too afraid to run away.

oooOOOooo

After working feverishly for more hours than he could count with very little sleep, Rodney realised he had finally decoded the encryption on Akalus' personal files. As he watched on, pages and pages of text unlocked, work that must have been ongoing for many, many years judging by the sheer quantity of it.

The language it was written in was instantly recognisable as Ancient. Although he didn't consider himself an expert in that field he had indirectly picked up quite a lot of the symbols they used and their various combinations, and although he would never call himself fluent (he was a genius in so many other fields, where would he find time to learn another language?) he knew enough to pick up key facts and phrases.

And what he read was confusing to say the least. He realised after a while of browsing the file he had opened up appeared to be some kind of journal. From the words he could easily pick out it appeared to be a long-winded complaint against the Ancients…odd considering it was written in their language…and a some kind of opinion discrediting all of their progress when measured against their losses and mistakes.

Although Rodney couldn't help but agree with the general sentiment of the pages – for incredibly smart people the Ancients had royally screwed up on a number of their projects – the sheer amount of diatribe and repeated threats to set things right left him feeling hugely disturbed. The man was obsessed…and not in the good way he might become obsessed with solving some frustratingly complex equation. This man was crazed, ranting over and over about the need for balance to be restored and rights to be wronged.

But what did he intend to do to right these wrongs? McKay had the distinct impression that all the work he was completing had something to do with it. But how could making the Stargate transportation system operational fix anything? Why was Akalus so insistent that it had to be done and it had to be done soon? If the wrongs had been done so long ago, what was a few more hours, days or even months going to matter?

And then he found something different. It stood out immediately because for once, it wasn't a rant or diatribe. This was a set of calculations. At first, he couldn't figure out what they related to, but after a few more minutes he recognised what the equations referred to. They were mapping the final stages of a star's life. From what he was reading, it would happen some time in the next three months. And it was a huge star, around four times the size of the sun. it would create a black hole with a pretty decent gravitational pull…especially if you opened up a Stargate in close proximity to it. What most people didn't understand was that a black hole had no greater a gravitational pull on the surrounding environment than the sun it had once been, so planets would continue to revolve around it, growing colder and less hospitable rapidly, but not getting sucked in. However, what Akalus seemed to understand only too well, was that if you got in close to the centre of the black hole the gravity became much greater, so if you activated a Stargate within its pull, one that could connect to multiple other gates just as Akalus had once discussed with him…

'Oh, my God!' McKay breathed, realising just what Akalus had in mind.

But the Stargate system was non-operational. He would need someone with a strong natural ATA gene to activate it. Someone like –

'Dr McKay, I have a new project for you.'

The sound of Akalus' mechanised voice jolted McKay out of his thoughts. He tried to school his expression into one of surprised interest, but figured he just looked guilty and terrified. He was so bad at that kind of thing.

'Really?' he replied, unable to keep the quiver from his voice. 'I thought the calculations were important.'

'They are, and so is this,' Akalus told him.

McKay gave a manic giggle, that barely sounded like it came from him. 'So…what other impossible task would you like me to carry out in an unfeasibly short period of time?'

'That wouldn't be dissension I hear in your tone, would it, Dr McKay?' Akalus asked, standing right over him.

McKay now clutched his tablet against his chest like a shield, hiding the information he'd been reading. 'No…no…it was a genuine question,' McKay lied. 'I don't function well under too much pressure, that's all.'

Akalus just continued to loom over him, unmoved by his pitiful excuse.

'Not that you need to hear about that,' McKay mumbled. 'You were saying something about a new project?'

'I need you to rectify an…annoying problem with the Kheprian ship.'

'An annoying problem?' McKay echoed. 'With the ship that brought me here?'

'We have more than one, so it may not be that specific one, but they all contain the same flaw.'

'Oh…right…so you need me to fix all the Kheprian ships?'

'One is enough,' Akalus assured him.

'Okay. So, what's this problem exactly?'

'The Kheprians created a time dilation drive that is able to enter subspace travel back in time and exit safely up to a distance of approximately sixty-thousand years in to the past.'

'Sixty-thousand years…whoa!' McKay breathed, hardly able to fathom the calculations required to do that safely.

'They are able to create an anchor point in time when beginning the journey, one that makes it easy to return to their original point in space and time, but their place and time of arrival in the past is random. They have not found a way to plan exactly where they need to be.'

'I see…' McKay hummed, realising the direction this conversation was heading. 'And I suppose you want me to do something about that?'

'I need you to make the destination place and time accurate.'

'Of course you do,' McKay seethed, his disbelief now. 'Because if the creators of the original drive couldn't figure out a way of doing it, I can obviously figure this out in –'

He paused to give Akalus his chance to add an arbitrary amount of time.

'Two days,' Akalus obliged.

'Two days,' McKay repeated, nodding with a sardonic grin plastered across his face. 'So, the Kheprians spent God knows how many years building it and getting it to function as efficiently as they could, but you want me to iron out the kinks in forty-eight hours.'

'A little under now,' Akalus corrected. 'You just wasted a minute of your time complaining.'

 _Great, so the tyrant chooses now to try out his stand-up routine, as if his order isn't a big enough joke?_

Rodney knew arguing wasn't going to help, so he simply asked, 'I assume the time dilation drive now takes priority over the calculations, then?'

'They are both to be your priority,' Akalus stated, matter of fact.

McKay's jaw dropped, and once again his fear was overwhelmed by his indignant fury. 'How do you expect me to work on two such complex projects at the same time. One of them has to give'

'I'm sure you'll find a way to make it happen, Dr McKay. If it helps, I only need you to make the time travel accurate for a maximum of five days into the past as long as you do it within my stated time scale.'

'That doesn't make it any easier – five days…sixty thousand years… it makes no difference if I can't figure out what the problem is.'

'You're a genius, Dr McKay. I have every faith in your abilities.'

'Why five days?'

Akalus paused, not answering the question.

McKay felt the floor beneath his feet vibrate just a little. Almost imperceptible, but definitely there. That happened a lot when Akalus was around…especially when he wasn't happy. Odd…

'I'm guessing something happened in the last few days that you need to change.'

'That is none of your concern, Dr McKay. All you need to concern yourself with is fixing the time dilation drive.'

'And the calculations.'

'And the calculations,' Akalus agreed.

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted them, and Rodney looked past Akalus to see the three-armed Kheprian walking in through his laboratory door.

'Ah, Hakkar. Are your troops deployed?'

The alien screeched an affirmative.

'Good. Then perhaps you could escort Dr McKay to one of your ships and show him the time dilation drive. He's going to make some improvements to your destination selection process.'

The huge bug turned his head in McKay's direction, held the look for one beat, then turned back to his master and nodded, gesturing with a brutish swing of his arm for McKay to follow him. 'Come.'

Rodney snatched up the data pad he'd been shielding and clutched it to his chest as he passed Akalus and scurried out behind his escort, glad to put some distance between himself and his sinister captor.

'Two days, Dr McKay,' Akalus called after him, following as far as the doorway and then stopping there.

'Bite me,' McKay muttered under his breath, careful not to say it loud enough for anyone to hear.

Up ahead, the bug snorted out something that resembled a chuckle, but did nothing else to acknowledge what he'd said so he couldn't quite be sure. No…it must have just sounded like laughter. There was no way the bug would laugh at a comment like that.

He shrugged it off as a coincidence and did his best to keep up to avoid a beating.

oooOOOooo

The market was quite obviously a thriving business for many local traders judging by the collection of stalls and transporters from which vendors displayed and sold their wares. It stretched on for some distance as far as Sheppard could tell, the calls to tempt customers to view their stock filling the air in a confusing cacophony of names and terminology Sheppard had no understanding of.

Disguised as he was by his deeply hooded garment made taking a good look at things a little tricky, but he could see a lot of it was food based, with the odd clothing or salvaged tech stall thrown in just to add a little variety. The food smelled good, even looked tasty, but there was a general grubbiness to the merchants and their wares in this place that was a little off-putting. This wasn't a market worried about quality; this was a market with quick profits as its core priority. Still, it wasn't a patch on the filth and degradation he'd tolerated at Phylacos, so his mouth was soon watering at the various delicious sights and aromas.

Though leading the way on their approach, Mishta had fallen back as soon as they'd reached the edge of the market and now stayed close by Sheppard's side, although whether she was there to wrangle him or protect him wasn't exactly clear. Occasionally, she would catch hold of his arm and steer him when his view of the others was restricted, her grip tight on his wasted limb. Though his appetite had improved while staying with these rebels, and he had eaten more in the past day than he had in the previous two weeks, he knew he had a long way to go to get back even to his former slim frame. And with the sickness still lingering inside him, ready to take hold again, he realised that might never happen. It was a fear that tainted even this beautiful morning of freedom…well, relative freedom anyway.

They stopped briefly at a stall selling fresh baked goods, Lansha making a purchase and tossing something Sheppard's way. He caught it, turning it over in his gloved hands. He couldn't tell what it felt like exactly, but it smelled delicious.

'It's good food, Human. Eat it,' Mishta urged, snapping a section off the end of it and eating it herself. He could see inside it now, realising it was something like a pie with a meat filling. He was always up for trying something new…of the food variety at least. And thankfully he found it tasted every bit as good as it smelled.

On a whim, he broke off another section and held it out to his constant shadow. She looked at it as if she thought it might be booby trapped, then accepted the offer with an almost imperceptible twitch of a smile. _Careful_ , he thought, _that was almost friendly_. Hopefully that simple gesture had scored him some brownie points…maybe enough for her to take her eyes off him long enough for him to scope things out. He finished the rest of it in a matter of minutes, enjoying the sensation of fullness weighing heavy in his stomach after he was done. It was a feeling he was still getting used to after months of hunger in Phylacos.

Up ahead, Marmotah clearly knew where he was headed. He led the party through the crowds to a craft set back a little from the others on the far side of the market, it's open rear hatch entrance shrouded from view of the general passers-by.

Marmotah marched right up to it. 'Kaliq…Kaliq, are you in there?'

A moment or two later, an odd-looking creature poked its head out through the thick netting drapes keeping insects and over-inquisitives eyes at bay.

Kaliq eyed Marmotah dubiously, his grey-tinged, weathered face screwing up with mistrust as his black orbs drilled into the Birajan. 'Oh, it's you. Come to con me again, have you?'

Marmotah pointed to himself gaping around at his companions in mock innocence. 'Me? I've never cheated you, Kaliq. You must be mistaking me for someone else.'

'No, I distinctly remember paying you good money for a booster you had obviously patched. It lasted three uses before almost blowing up a customer's speeder. You cost me a lot of credits…along with my good reputation.'

Marmotah sputtered out a chuckle. 'What good reputation?' Kaliq rumbled low in his throat. 'Okay, I'm sorry if the booster didn't work for long, but I sold it to you in good faith, I swear.'

Kaliq narrowed his dark eyes, then snapped, 'Okay…show me what you have.'

Swinging the pack down from his shoulder, Marmotah opened the top a little and held it out where Kaliq could see it.

The previously narrowed eyes almost popped from their sockets. 'Come inside,' he whispered, pulling aside the veil and allowing them to pass.

The sight that met Sheppard's eyes as he entered defied belief. Though the craft was relatively small outside, the inside was cavernous and filled from floor to ceiling with random pieces of salvaged tech, both large and small. He hesitated, thrown by the surprising size of the room he found himself in. The air was unbearably heavy and humid, and the smell of metal, rust and various mechanical lubricants proved almost stifling in his overheated disguise.

Lansha grasped his elbow and pulled him aside. 'Spatial dilation. Not uncommon in these parts and certainly not to Chappelans. Try not to act surprised.'

'This is all very…Dr Who…'Sheppard breathed, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. The place wasn't just a little bigger, it was vast, with chambers heading off the main cabin to who-knew-what lay beyond.

'What?' Lansha asked.

Sheppard peered at him as best he could from beneath his hood and whispered, 'Doesn't matter.'

What at first had looked like chaos began to display signs of order as he took it all in. There were patterns to the way things were stacked and grouped. He suspected this Kaliq knew were just about anything he'd ever traded for was stored, even if on first glance it looked like a jumbled nightmare.

'I take it you think this place is… _cool?'_ Lansha grinned his way.

Sheppard couldn't help smiling back. 'Oh yeah…very cool.'

'How many of those do you have?' Kaliq demanded, jabbing a thick grey finger in the direction of Marmotah's bag.

Sheppard turned around to face their host, supressing a gasp as best he could. The relatively normal sized head he'd seen poking out from the curtains was attached to a huge bulk of a body, one easily twice the size of the average human in height and breadth, not to mention weight. Kaliq's elongated neck could flex in any direction, including dipping down low in front of his torso, which had given the impression that he was little taller than Sheppard himself until his body was revealed.

Marmotah, standing only just a foot or so higher than this guy's knees, if he had any, instructed the others to hold up their bags. 'Twenty-five in total. Twenty-five Wraith stunners…that has to be worth dealing with me, wouldn't you say?'

But Sheppard noticed Kaliq's attention had shifted from the bags to Mishta. The huge creature took a couple of heavy steps toward her, and he got an unwanted waft of body odour that, mingled with the heat and the other odours in the cabin, almost knocked him out. To her credit, Mishta stood firm, not flinching as he approached.

'This one's a hybrid…human mix if I'm not mistaken,' he grunted, tilting his head while his eyes roamed over her as if he were evaluating her financial worth.

'What of it?' she demanded, slapping his hand away as a thick finger toyed with a lock of her fiery pony tail.

'Soft,' he muttered. 'And she smells good. I'll give you five thousand credits for her.'

Juroah took her aside before she could launch into a tirade of abuse, rasping a warning that she should hold her tongue and let them deal with him.

'The only things for sale are the weapons. Leave her be,' Marmotah said firmly, his good humour seemingly failing him at the attention this creature was giving someone he clearly believed belonged to him.

'Pity she's not pure human,' Kaliq continued as if he hadn't heard the warning. 'Pretty thing like that could be worth a small fortune.'

'The guns, Kaliq. That's what we're trading for. Either you're interested or not. If not, tell us now so we can be on our way.'

Still ignoring the Birajan, Kaliq moved toward Mishta again, practically undressing her with his eyes, although he made no overtly sexual moves on her. 'I could probably get a little more since the human gene is so predominant. Seven thousand.'

'I am a member of their tribe. They don't own me,' Mishta growled, her hand shifting to her gun.

Sensing a threat, Kaliq moved far faster than his size should have allowed, grabbing her and twisting the gun from her hand.

Sheppard tensed to spring forward, but Lansha grasped his arm hard, shaking his head. Of course…he wasn't allowed to do anything that might give him away as human.

Juroah stepped in now, taking over from Marmotah as he pushed himself between the younger male and the towering alien. 'Please, Kaliq. Let her go. She was only defending herself.'

'She was going to draw her weapon on me,' he gruffed, tightening his grip around her throat, Mishta pulled hard on the muscular forearm pressing on her airways, struggling to breath.

'She wouldn't have fired unless she felt it entirely necessary,' Juroah assured him, patting the air. 'I'll make a deal with you. Let her go and you can keep her gun…as a sign of goodwill.'

'But that's my –'

'Hush, Mishta!' Lansha ordered.

She fell silent and stopped struggling so hard.

'It's hardly worth it,' the huge alien grumbled, looking over the weapon he held in his other hand with distaste. Then Kaliq fixed his gaze on Lansha. 'You her brother?'

Lansha gave a hesitant nod. 'Yes...yes, I am.'

'Twelve-thousand for the two of them,' Kaliq offered.

Mishta kicked him hard in the shin and he slackened his grip, allowing her to slip free.

'They are family to us…they are not for sale,' Juroah reiterated. 'Just give us your price for the guns so we can begin negotiations.'

Kaliq nodded, tossing Mishta's gun back to her, and snatched the bag from Marmotah, pulling out one of the stunners. 'Do they work?'

Before anyone could answer he shot Falahn, who slumped to the floor. Now everyone else was reaching for their guns.

'Calm down, he'll be fine,' Kaliq told them, matter-of-fact. 'He's only stunned.'

Falahn lay juddering on the floor. Kaliq had hit him in the shoulder, so he was conscious but immobilised. Sheppard inwardly winced; he knew only too well how a Wraith stunner blast felt. It would take hours for him to get all the feeling back in his extremities.

'Twenty thousand,' Kaliq barked.

'Twenty thousand?' Lansha repeated. 'That's not even one thousand credits per gun. You can easily sell them for four thousand each.'

Kaliq made a strange noise that Sheppard realised after a few seconds was laughter. 'If it's so easy go find someone to buy them for a better price yourself.'

'I will,' Lansha challenged, grabbing the gun from his hand and trying to reclaim the pack carrying the others.

'Twenty-five,' Kaliq offered.

Sheppard couldn't resist smirking. There was definitely a deal to be struck here, they just had to find the right price.

He saw a change in Lansha's expression too. He was thinking the exact same thing. 'Seventy-five.'

That snorting/choking laugh returned. 'And where is my profit margin? Thirty-five, no more.'

'Fifty, no lower,' Mishta announced, chin held high. 'Agree now or we walk.'

The others all glared, as if they thought she had blown their chances, but once again, Kaliq chuckled in amusement. 'You have spirit, little one. Fifty it is.'

The sense of relief was palpable. Even Mishta herself visibly relaxed as if even she had thought she might have made an error of judgement. For a second, she almost allowed herself to smile.

Almost.

They'd set out to make forty-five thousand credits, and had secured fifty. In anyone's books that had to be considered a good day's work.

'Credits or direct?' Kaliq asked, reclaiming the gun Lansha had snatched.

'Credits,' Marmotah replied quickly, his grin almost splitting his face in half.

Kaliq nodded, and shuffled off into the back of the craft, pushing aside the numerous mechanical parts suspended in netting from the ceiling to clear a path for his hulking form.

The others gathered together and whispered excitedly about the deal they had secured. Sheppard heard the word explosives, but they seemed to be being extremely careful not to say too much in front of him. Well…whatever. He wanted out of their company as soon as possible anyway, he didn't need to know their plans. He sipped some of the water concealed in his cloak to replace the vital body fluids rapidly oozing from his pores. He couldn't wait to get out of there. A cave sounded like the ideal place to be right now.

Kaliq returned a few minutes later with a different bag, from which he began to count out their payment. The Birajans watched on, almost salivating as each one hundred credit disk was slapped down on the countertop in front of them. It was a slow and deliberate process so there could be no mistaking how much money was changing hands.

Sheppard kept quietly sipping at his water supply, feeling a little shaky now. He really could use some fresh air, but this Kaliq character seemed determined to drag out the payment process for as long as possible.

'So,' Kaliq said as set down the last disk and pushed the credits toward Juroah, who tipped out the guns from his own bag and scooped the credits into it. 'What is a Chapellan doing travelling with this rabble?' he asked, looking Sheppard's cloaked form up and down.

'He's helping us retrofit our transporters with Chapellan propulsion systems,' Lansha explained, jumping in a little too quickly in Sheppard's opinion. 'That's why we need the money. He's here to help us find parts.'

Kaliq blinked at him and then slipped out from behind the counter, approaching Sheppard's position. Even from beneath the confines of his huge cloak, he sensed the change in mood…the sudden tension gripping his companions. _Play it cool,_ he tried to telepathically advise them, keeping his own stance relaxed. Not that he could manage anything other than that, he was damn near collapsing anyway; he doubted he could lock his joints even if he wanted to.

'Can't talk for yourself, Chapellan?' Kaliq asked, peering at him as Sheppard very slightly adjusted the angle of his head to ensure his face remained shadowed.

'Like they said. They're paying for my expertise,' Sheppard said nonchalantly.

The next thing he knew his feet were off the floor and Kaliq had him by the throat, slamming his back into the racks of spare parts, bringing various weighty components showering down on them, and flipping back his hood to reveal his real identity. 'No Chapellan in his right mind would keep his cloak on in this heat once he's out of the sun. It was obvious you had something to hide. In my line of work, it pays to know who you're dealing with.' He tapped at what passed for his ear – just a filthy-looking hole in the side of his head. 'I modified my earpiece…it tells me what language you're talking in, Human.'

'Kaliq…we don't want any trouble,' Juroah pleaded. We've made our trade, now we'll leave…all of us.'

But Kaliq was now eyeing Sheppard in that same evaluatory way he had earlier scrutinised Mishta. 'Seventy-thousand credits,' he said, thankfully lowering him back to the floor before he choked. But the pressure he'd exerted left a lasting impression that he was still being gripped, making it hard to breathe freely.

'What?' Lansha gasped, quickly following it up with, 'No…no…he's not for sale.'

'Seventy-five thousand, and you know it's a good offer,' Kaliq countered, pulling at Sheppard until he had fully decloaked him. He tossed the garment aside and studied him a little longer, adding, 'I have a member of the Japhalan nobility looking for a human companion. He's a little skinny, but I can soon fatten him up.' He grabbed at Sheppard's jaw and jerked his head around to face him with little regard for his discomfort. 'The face definitely shows promise.'

Sheppard tore himself free, rubbing at the marks Kaliq had left on him. 'Jeez. Ever heard of personal space?'

A sharp backhand reminded Sheppard of his place in this galaxy. 'You dare talk to me that way, Human?'

He staggered, stumbling back against Mishta, who steadied him before his knees could completely buckle. 'He cannot be her companion. He belongs to me already,' she told the trader.

Sheppard opened his mouth to respond, but she pinched his arm as she turned him around to face her, a warning that he'd already said more than enough. He made do with wiping the trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth away on the back of his hand.

'You?' Kaliq scoffed, gesturing toward Marmotah. 'I thought you belonged to the thief here the way he looks at you.'

Marmotah was, indeed, looking like he wanted to tear Sheppard apart and paint the walls with his blood. Great, because the tension between them wasn't high enough already.

' _He_ satisfies Birajan traditions, but this one,' she caught hold of Sheppard's chin and turned his face to hers. 'well, like you say, I _am_ predominantly human.'

And then she was kissing him, the contact just the right mixture of passion and possessiveness to sell her story. Sheppard let her do it, especially since it wasn't exactly unpleasant. The final flourish was a nip at his bottom lip, a seductive tug with her teeth that awoke a feeling he was worried might result in a reaction Marmotah really wouldn't like, not to mention the fact it left his knees buckling all over again.

When they parted, he caught sight of Lansha, slack-jawed, watching his sister's antics with a mixture of horror and amazement. Sheppard stayed silent, playing the good little slave man, just like he was supposed to.

'She really does like this human,' Juroah interjected, while Sheppard allowed Mishta to stroke at his chest without protest. 'She's owned him a whole week and hasn't shot him yet. I'm afraid if we sold him, _we_ would be the ones she shoots this time.'

Sheppard wasn't really listening to the conversation any more. He was too busy gazing back into the violet eyes that had locked on his as she pawed at his body, trying to figure out what she was really thinking. And from the way Mishta was staring back at him, she was trying to do the same thing. 'Besides, you like working for me, don't you, Human?' she purred, a flirtatious smile ticking at the corners of her mouth.

'Yes, Ma'am,' he replied, earning a slap for his casual address.

'That's 'Mistress',' she insisted, frowning as if he had offended her.

Sheppard schooled his features into subservient and apologetic, and grated out, 'Yes, _Mistress_ ,' as convincingly as he could.

'It's lucky you're useful to me or I'd have your tongue cut out for a slip like that.'

'You don't want to do that,' Kaliq snorted, playfully nudging her in the ribs with his knuckles. 'Tongue's one of the most useful parts, so I'm told.'

Sheppard didn't embarrass easy, but even he had to keep his eyes averted from hers after that little gem.

'Your loss,' Kaliq shrugged, feigning indifference. 'I suppose some things are more satisfying than credits.'

'Yes, they are,' Mishta agreed, picking up the discarded cloak and tossing it back in Sheppard's direction. He caught it as she quipped. 'Cover up. You can take it off when we get home…along with a few more of those layers.'

He felt his eyebrows inch up at that, but got on with dressing without comment. _It's always the quiet ones,_ he thought to himself, wrapping the cloak around him and burying himself in the depths of its shielding fabric as he squeezed past their odorous host. _Always the quiet ones._

* * *

 **A/N: As always, thanks to the people leaving reviews for the story. They're much appreciated and make the work worthwhile. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The walk to the Greetak caves was surprisingly easy and relatively uneventful. The terrain was uneven, but not as bad as Sheppard had been expecting from the elaborate and clearly exaggerated description he'd been given by the Birajans when they'd set out on their hike. Then again, if his legs were as short as theirs he figured this walk _would_ seem a lot harder.

Though it was still hot, the path to the caves was mercifully shaded by steep rock faces and tall trees along much of the route, giving him opportunities to cool off under the smothering weight of his disguise. Despite their fatigue, the Birajans chattered excitedly about the deal they had struck, laughing about Kaliq's manner with Mishta and Sheppard himself, Juroah laughing himself into a coughing fit about Mishta's pretence of being Sheppard's owner. Marmotah forced on a smile at that point, but clearly wasn't happy talking about it, while Mishta herself just walked on ahead and refused to acknowledge the conversation at all, for once not trailing Sheppard like a dog rounding up sheep. In fact, she'd barely cast a glance his way since they'd left Kaliq's store. He couldn't help but think she regretted her actions at some level…that she'd opened herself up just a little too much.

Lansha had opted to hang back and keep Sheppard company in her stead. Sheppard really didn't mind; the young hybrid was friendly and easy going, and intrigued about humans to the point that he shot questions at him almost as quickly as Sheppard could let off rounds from a P-90 set to rapid fire. He answered them as honestly as he could, and was fascinated to see the pocket watch Lansha proudly handed to him to examine…a cherished memento of his father. The inscription inside the silver case read, 'To my darling Rufus, from your ever-loving wife Isabella on our wedding day, 18th July 1876. The man had apparently died less than five years ago, according to Lansha's estimations of human time, yet had been born over eighty years before Sheppard had even been a glint in his father's eye. That was kind of hard to wrap his head around. Even more difficult to swallow was the fact Lansha's father had left behind a wife and possibly children too, none of whom had ever seen him again. Their confusion and despair at not knowing what had happened to him might have destroyed their lives. It made him think of Teyla and Torren again, steeling his determination to get them back together somehow.

But for now, he needed a distraction.

'Do you and Mishta get a lot of trouble because you're human hybrids?' Sheppard asked Lansha, finally throwing in a question of his own.

Lansha shrugged, tugging a flask from his pocket to rehydrate himself before he answered. 'Sometimes, but because we're not pure breeds we're not considered as valuable as humans by most. I once had a very persistent Japhalan female insist I should marry her and make beautiful children with her, even after I explained my preferences. Every time I went to the market at Secoffa she would single me out and follow me like a pining zoorkat. Not that you even know what one of those is.' He huffed out a laugh at the memory. 'It was rather embarrassing and I had to stop going there in the end. She still asked after me for months after my last visit, so I'm told.'

'Japhalan? Didn't Kaliq mention something about a Japhalan he wanted to sell me to?'

'He did. Japhalans are physically similar to humans,' Lansha explained. 'And not at all unattractive. If she'd been of the male persuasion I imagine I would have found the attention rather more flattering…'

'What about your sister?'

Lansha gave him a sly look, smirking. 'What about her?'

Sheppard ignored the obvious twist Lansha was putting on his words. 'Does she have difficulties with people getting a little too interested?'

Lansha walked on a few steps, his grin widening before he answered. 'Something you will quickly learn is that Mishta has little trouble with anyone. She uses her human traits to her advantage when it suits her, and denies them when it doesn't. But one thing's for sure, no one gives her trouble for long.'

That made Sheppard chuckle. 'Yeah, I kinda got that impression,' he admitted.

'You should feel honoured,' Lansha continued, a distinct twinkle in his eye as he clapped a hand on Sheppard's shoulder. 'I never thought I'd see the day my sister would kiss a human. I told you she'd warm to you.'

Sheppard winced beneath his hood, rebuffing the good-humoured jibe. 'I dunno. I think you may be wrong about that. I can't work her out.'

'No…not many people can. My father used to call her his beautiful conundrum. He said it was hard to imagine something so pleasing on the outside could be so embittered in the inside.' Lansha's smile faltered a little, as if he were recalling a not-so-fond memory. 'She's not embittered…not really. But she's grown up knowing that the universe is doomed to die in our lifetimes. It's hard to find the positive in that.'

'Yeah…I'm sure it is,' Sheppard empathised. 'Try knowing you're the one who's going to help end it. That's a laugh a minute.'

Lansha fixed him with an earnest look, his deep violet eyes filled with compassion. 'I have faith in you, Human. When you say you won't let Akalus use you that way, I believe you.'

'Hurry up, Lansha. We'll never make it back for supper if you don't pick up your pace,' Mishta yelled back to him now, and for the first time they realised they had become so engrossed in their conversation they'd fallen well behind the others.

'Better not keep her waiting,' Lansha whispered, lengthening his stride. 'She gets testy if she misses evening victuals.'

'How can you tell the difference?' Sheppard quipped, hurrying to catch up to them.

Lansha laughed and shook his head, quickly straightening his face as they neared his impatient sister. She simply adopted her customary scowl and set off again at a decent pace once she was satisfied they were following.

They topped a rise, the gaping maw of a cave in view just behind where Mishta and the others had stopped to wait for them. Even at this distance, Sheppard felt a tingle in his blood, that oh, so familiar buzz he always got from being around Ancient tech. If he could feel it all the way out here it was something big…which could mean trouble for him. Although Lansha had promised to listen if he advised against activating it, he doubted the others would be as understanding of his concerns.

They entered the caves, the trio of Birajan males instantly taking up pews on small boulders that had at some point fallen from the roof of the cavern, resting their weary limbs and cooling off a while.

The damp chill in the air was welcome respite from the hot, arid atmosphere on that last climb up to the opening. Sheppard threw back his hood now they were away from potentially prying eyes and looked about at the natural formations; flowstone, stalactites and stalagmites, tiny grottos receding off the main cavern with glittering, gem-like mineral formations dotting their rugged walls. It was beautiful…and then he wondered if he would think it was so stunning if he hadn't spent six months in Phylacos. Perhaps something positive had come out of all that misery after all – a new level of appreciation for life and all its wonders.

'No use looking for an escape route in here, Human. There's only one way in and out.'

He turned around to face Mishta, not at all surprised by her accusation. 'Why would I try to escape when we're just starting to get on so well?' he smirked, refusing to let her mistrust sour his mood.

She sucked her cheeks in, pouting in a way she probably hoped looked angry but was just the right side of sexy not to intimidate him.

'So, where's this Ancient tech you want me to check out?' he asked, giving her an out from their banter.

She pouted a while longer, then turned and headed off into the shadows at the rear of the cavern. 'This way.'

He watched her go, not sure whether he preferred her pretty pout or her self-righteous hip sway. She might think she was giving him attitude, but the view of her walking away had a very different effect on him. It had been a long time…a very long time…

'Are you coming?' she snapped as she looked back over her shoulder at him.

'Not quite.'

She frowned, apparently puzzled by his reply.

He managed not to laugh at the filthy jokes his mind was making. 'I'm right behind you.'

'Wait,' Lansha called as he ran after them into the darkest reaches of the cave. 'We'll need –'

Sheppard's foot hit something decidedly metallic and the area ahead of them immediately flooded with illumination.

' – lights…' Lansha finished, his voice tiny in the vast concourse of Ancient construction now stretched out ahead of them.

'It's ok. I got it,' Sheppard replied, walking past Mishta and into the structure beyond.

It wasn't immediately clear what this place was. It reminded him of Atlantis and other city ships he'd been in, but this place looked as if it had been built in situ, not abandoned here and reclaimed by time. The cave appeared to be a primary type, formed by natural process when the planet was young, not hollowed out in any artificial way. So, what secrets was it hiding? Nothing like what they'd found on Doranda, he hoped. These guys and a faulty power source/weapon of mass destruction would not make a good mix.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and halted his progress.

'Are you doing this?' she demanded, her gaze twitching up to the light units above them.

He shrugged her hand away. 'Yep.'

'How?'

'It's reacting to my DNA.'

He glanced her way, watching her look around in open mouthed awe. The situation made her nervous, he could tell. Up until now, Mishta and her gang of merry men had been the ones in control of things, but in here…in here, _he_ was king.

'This _is_ why you brought me here, isn't it?' he reminded her.

She remained tight-lipped.

'No one has ever seen the place lit up like this before,' Lansha breathed, his expression more one of delight than the anxious trepidation his sister displayed. 'It's truly remarkable.'

'That it is,' Juroah agreed, his voice echoing a little in the relative quiet, just above the hum of the lights. 'The Ancient humans were clearly more advanced than their descendants.'

'I'll try not to be offended by that,' Sheppard grouched, slipping off his cloak and setting it aside. He circled a few covered mounds before selecting one to unsheathe. As the dust sheet fell away it looked harmless enough, very similar to the panels in the control centre of Atlantis, to be exact. Nothing that looked like it might fire up some honking great space gun. He reached out, brushing his fingertips across the smooth screens.

The panel burst into life, and with it up fired a HUD displaying statistics and readings that meant absolutely nothing to him.

Mishta startled and immediately drew her gun; Lansha swiftly pushed it down so it pointed at the floor.

'Yeah…probably best not to shoot the mysterious alien tech,' Sheppard nodded, walking across that chamber and on into an anti-chamber he'd spotted. It looked immediately familiar. They'd found a room just like it when they'd arrived at Atlantis. Circular, with a hexagonal raised dais supporting a stand near the edge of one side. The pedestal was topped with a screen and some type of planchette. Oh, yeah. If they wanted him to operate something, this would be safe and yet sure to impress them.

The room glowed into life as soon as he crossed the threshold, the screen powering on the moment he touched the planchette. He still hadn't mastered reading Ancient writing after almost five years in Atlantis, he'd been too busy trying to keep the Wraith from the door if he was honest. Besides, there were other people on the expedition way better at that kind of thing than he was. But he knew what would happen if he moved the planchette over a symbol. So, he did it.

The others gasped as a middle-aged man appeared dead centre of the dais and began to speak.

Mishta raised her gun again – an instinctive and understandable reaction – and this time it was Juroah who guided her hand away. 'There's nothing to fear. It's a recording, isn't it, Human?'

'That's right. Just a recording,' he assured them, listening as the man told of the facility's work, trying to design a method of eradicating the Wraith from the Pegasus Galaxy. He told the story Sheppard had heard several times over now, that eventually the sheer numbers of Wraith had forced them to abandon all plans of a fightback to regain control and the Ancients had been forced to flee the galaxy in a mass exodus.

'They abandoned the peoples of this galaxy! How could they do that?' Mishta asked, clearly angered by the thought that these beings of supposed superior intelligence would abandon the peoples of the galaxy to the Wraith…an enemy everyone now knew they had created.

'They couldn't win. They were outnumbered,' Sheppard reminded her, echoing the recording's words.

'And you would do the same?'

He looked away from the display to meet her furious and disbelieving gaze. She wore an odd expression, anger mixed with sorrowful disappointment. He didn't want to disappoint her further. 'No…no, I wouldn't,' he admitted. 'I would stay and fight until I couldn't fight any more.'

Her expression softened into something resembling relief and her attention shifted back to the hologram, who ended his message soon after and faded from view.

'Well, I believe the human has proven he is the one, and Akalus will hopefully detect this signal to prove he is still alive,' Juroah surmised, gathering up his things. 'We should –'

A sound back in the cavern stopped him mid-sentence.

Lansha guided Sheppard off the dais and behind the others as they all drew their weapons, even Falahn, who really looked like he wouldn't know which direction to point a gun in as he was still daze from the stunner blast. 'Perhaps it was just a rock falling,' he whispered hopefully.

More noises – harsh whispers and distinct foot shuffling.

'That's no rock,' Sheppard breathed.

Mishta and Marmotah took point, with Juroah just behind them. All of them levelled their guns toward the open door.

'Do not fire unless it is totally necessary!' Lansha hissed to them, hoping for a peaceful resolution.

Mishta cast a withering look his way. 'Draw your weapon and make sure the human is safe,' she growled. 'Show some courage for once.'

Lansha gave an almost audible gulp, and slipped his gun free from its holster. His hand shook as he lifted his arm to take aim. His complexion was ashen, those faint scale outlines at his hairline taking on a sickly purple hue. Sheppard knew if anything happened he would need to get that gun because this kid had clearly never shot anyone and sure as hell didn't have the stomach for it.

'Marrrmotaahhh!' a gruff voice shouted from within the confines of the control area they'd passed through.

It was Kaliq.

'Why has he followed us here?' Marmotah asked no one in particular.

'Answer him. See what he wants,' Juroah urged, pushing him forward slightly toward the doorway.

'Isn't it obvious?' Mishta drawled, looking back at Sheppard. 'We only have one thing he desperately wants. We need to get rid of Kaliq before he takes the human.'

She'd moved only a couple of steps toward the door when Juroah grabbed her arm and tugged her back. 'No, Mishta. Leave this to me and Marmotah.'

'You think I can't handle him?'

'I think he showed far too much interest in you back at his ship for it to be safe for you to tackle him. If he can't get the human, he might just settle for you instead.'

She cracked a wry smile. 'And you would miss me, is that it, old-timer?'

'This is a serious matter, Mishta,' Juroah chided, drawing an apologetic lowering of her eyes in response. 'Stay back here with your brother and guard the human. Hopefully it won't come to a fight, but if it does, Lansha will need your support.'

Though clearly pissed, she allowed her Birajan companions to take the lead on the matter, just as he requested. Even Falahn stumbled out after them to do what he could.

Sheppard watched Mishta head his way and steady her aim directly on the doorway. 'You know, you could always give me a gun so I can defend myself,' he suggested.

She threw a filthy look his way and sucked her teeth.

'Uh, hello. The Wraith Slayer here. I've taken on –'

'Keep your voice down!' she hissed, eyes huge as if she'd almost forgotten who he was until he'd dropped that little reminder into the proceedings.

The shape of the room made the acoustics react strangely, meaning the voices outside of it drifted in and sounded as if they were coming from all around them. There was a conversation going on, which was promising because at least the fighting hadn't begun instantly, and that meant there was at least a chance that a peaceful resolution could be found.

'Perhaps we should offer you to Kaliq,' Mishta grumbled, glancing back at her brother. 'Maybe that would placate him.'

'I am not offering myself up to be handed over to a Japhalan woman!' he protested, his lip curling at the thought. 'Besides, I'm the one with the connections to get us the explosives we need.'

This time, Sheppard couldn't resist asking. 'Explosives? What do you want explosives for?'

'Never mind,' Lansha replied, suddenly sheepish.

'We'd come for you, Lansha. Eventually…' Mishta assured him, though assured was just about as far from how he looked as Sheppard thought it possible to get.

'After how long?'

'No _too_ long?'

'That's _not_ very reassuring!' her brother grumbled.

 _Great!_ Sheppard thought. _Another argument._ _That's just what this situation needs._

Suddenly, Mishta pressed her finger to her lips and listened more intently. And she was right to. The pitch of the voices and the force behind them had changed. This was turning from a conversation to a disagreement.

'Aww, crap,' Sheppard breathed, evaluating Lansha's weapon and how tight his grip on it was. It looked like it might pack quite a punch. He was definitely having that gun when the shit hit the fan.

A burst of light illuminated the room beyond theirs. A Wraith stunner blast.

Then…the facility spoke to him…well, not spoke to him exactly, but he suddenly knew there was a second door in the chamber and received clear visual instructions of how to activate it. That didn't just come to him by itself. The building was communication with him, protecting its perceived owner.

He found the activation panel in seconds and a section of the terracotta coloured wall twisted open. 'Time to go,' he hissed, Lansha taking the open route immediately while Sheppard had to grab Mishta's hand and haul her along with him.

'What about the others?' she asked, resisting his tug to the point he almost had to pull her over to get her to come with him.

'We're not leaving,' he explained as the door closed behind them, 'We can follow the passages back round to the control room.' He felt the facility give him the information he needed, examining the mental floor plan it had fed to him. 'Okay, this way.'

Although Lansha seemed willing to trust him, Mishta remained rooted to the spot. 'How can you know all this? You've never been here before.'

He halted, trying to control his exasperation. 'It's complicated. You're just gonna have to trust me and I'll explain when all this is over. Okay?'

She hesitated a moment longer, her silence punctuated by more muffled shouts, before responding with a curt nod and following him.

They heard more shots, some of which were from Wraith stunners. There was no mistaking that sound when you'd heard it as often as he had. Then all fell silent.

Sheppard paused, giving them the hold signal before remembering they wouldn't have a clue what it meant. He grabbed Mishta, who had carried on ahead and pulled her back behind him. He knew she would hate him for it, but they'd have to work through that later once they were all safe.

'Everywhere we go lights up like daybreak. They'll see us coming!' she complained.

He arched an eyebrow, thought _Lights off,_ and plunged them all into darkness.

A small flashlight shone out from Lansha's direction. 'You did that?'

'Like I said, it's complicated,' Sheppard repeated.

He caught the awestruck expression Mishta wore as the beam briefly passed over her face. It gave him a slight thrill to think his control of this place impressed her. It had been a while since he'd felt needed and valuable. 'We're a couple of corridors away from our point of ingress, so if you have any more of those flashlights, now would be a good time to use them so we can find our way.'

A second beam, this time coming from Mishta's direction, joined the first.

He held out his hand.

She refused to relinquish it.

With an audible sigh, Lansha slapped his flashlight into Sheppard's waiting palm. 'If he's going to lead the way he needs to be able to see, Mishta!'

'And now he can,' she retorted, unrepentant.

'Why must I always be the one to give ground?' he grunted.

'You're not. I'm always the one to compromise. You never –'

'Seriously!' Sheppard hissed, glaring at the two of them. 'You're gonna do this now?'

'No…of course not,' Lansha apologised. Then added to his sister, 'This will keep.'

'Yes, it will,' she shot right back at him.

Sheppard rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, and edged on. They moved at a slower pace now. If Kaliq and whoever he'd brought along for the ride had discovered they weren't in the anti-chamber, they could now be heading this way. But as they crept on, it became clear they weren't about to collide with Kaliq any time soon. Apparently, their disappearance from the room they were known to be in had their pursuers perplexed.

With luck, that gave them an advantage.

Within minutes, they were at the threshold of another doorway leading into the control area. They could see Juroah and the others laid out on the floor, unconscious, but hopefully no more than stunned. Beyond that, just through the door to the anti-chamber, Sheppard spied a gruff looking Birajan, dressed in a coat of filthy, tatty animal hide and toting a wraith stunner, courtesy of his huge companion.

'Gimme your gun,' he whispered to Lansha.

Without hesitation, Lansha made to pass him the weapon, but Mishta's quick reactions intervened, snatching it away first.

'Are you insane?' she hissed at her brother. 'You want to arm _him_? What's to stop him turning the gun on us?'

'Oh, I dunno,' Sheppard drawled. 'Maybe the fact that would leave me _totally outnumbered_.'

He could see how much his sarcasm pissed her off, but she held her tongue. She also held onto the gun.

'Those things shoot to kill, right?' he whispered.

'If hit in the head or chest, yes,' she told him.

'I can make a head shot,' he asserted, holding out his hand.

She looked toward the doorway. 'There's barely any of his head in view!'

'I can make the shot,' he reiterated, drilling her with a half-pleading, half-demanding look.

She was torn; he could see her doubt and her thinly-masked fear. 'And what then? There are at least four different voices in there. You will alert the others to our presence.'

From the corner of his eye, Sheppard saw Lansha's head drop with a growl of desperation. Sheppard himself was impressed that she'd picked up on the exact same number of voices he had. 'Then they come to the door and we pick them off one at a time.'

She still didn't hand over the weapon.

'I am not becoming some rich-bitch Japhalan's slave today!' he insisted, thrusting his hand toward her. 'Now hand over the damn gun!'

Finally relenting, she passed him the gun with a look that suggested she thought she was about to die. Well, that was entirely possible, but it wouldn't be at his hand.

He took aim. There was only a small section of the back of the figure's head visible in the doorway, and for a fraction of a second, doubt gripped Sheppard. Sure, he'd been a crack shot when he'd been abducted, but he was malnourished and out of practice. What if he missed? He could feel Mishta's gaze burning into him, and he endeavoured to prove to her that he'd not been boasting. He could do this. He could make the shot.

As luck would have it, his hapless target took a step back just as Sheppard focused his aim and readied to fire. The shot now much clearer, Sheppard wasted no time in taking it. The Birajan did a vertical drop, then toppled sideways. There was no mistaking he was down and staying down.

That was right about the point at which all hell broke loose. The roar from within the chamber was ferocious and seemed to shake the very fabric of the Ancient construction. Two more figures darted out, leaping over their fallen comrade, but Sheppard held steady and took out the first while Mishta made short work of the second.

That left them with the huge bulk of Kaliq, who now came bounding toward them. Mishta let off the first shot, which seemed to simply dissipate as it hit him. She shot another as Sheppard also fired, but both did the same as the first, fizzling away across the surface of his filthy body.

He raised his stunner at Sheppard. Lansha yanked him back as a stunner blast smacked into the wall next to where he had been standing only a moment before. They both threw themselves into cover, but Mishta stood her ground, continuing to fire as if hoping enough energy blasts would somehow penetrate whatever shield Kaliq was using.

Kaliq covered the ground between them in seconds and picked her up as if she were featherlight, throwing her across the room. She smashed against a console and slid down to the floor, a visible gash above her left eye a sure sign she'd hit her head on the way down.

'Mishta!'

Lansha's cry gave his position away instantly, and Kaliq was on him before the hybrid could scuttle away and conceal himself again. The huge brute grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up from the floor, leaving him dangling and screaming in agony.

'Well, you're not the one I'm looking for, but you and your sister will fetch a good price anyway,' he gloated.

Lansha swung a punch…and connected. Not that it made much of a difference. Kaliq barely flinched.

Sheppard watched on from the niche he'd crammed himself into. If he'd had a knife he might stand a chance. Whatever shielding Kaliq was using apparently only dissipated blasts from energy weapons. He remembered something about Goa'uld personal shielding being the same from some SGC mission reports he'd read a while ago. So, the shield could be penetrated…if he could get in close enough.

Then he spotted movement. Mishta was rousing…and drawing a knife from her utility belt. She'd obviously seen the punch and come to the same conclusion. Her unconsciousness had been an act so Kaliq's attention would be off her.

'Clever girl,' he breathed.

'Then again,' Kaliq now continued, turning Lansha a little and drawing yet another wail from him. 'If I already have a human male and a hybrid female, there's little cause to take you with us. Two is about as many as I can carry. Which means you…' he dropped Lansha to the floor and pulled out another, more lethal looking gun. '…are dispensable.'

Knowing Mishta might waste her advantage in a desperate bid to save her brother, Sheppard leapt up where Kaliq could see him. 'Wait!'

Mishta hesitated, looking bewildered.

Sheppard licked his lips nervously, knowing he needed to keep Kaliq's attention on him a few moment's longer until Mishta rallied. He just had to keep him talking. He put down his gun and held up his hands. 'There's no need to kill him, Kaliq. Let him go and I'll come quietly.'

'I know you will,' the alien sneered, raising the stunner in his direction.

Sheppard felt the all-too familiar thump of energy grip him as the shot found its target, beginning to crumple just as he saw Mishta leap high up on Kaliq's back and bury her knife in his neck to the hilt…

* * *

 **A/N: Uh oh! Let's hope Mishta managed to stop Kaliq! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and, as always, thanks to those of you taking the time to share your thoughts. :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Sheppard was the last to rouse from the Wraith stunner blasts by some considerable stretch of time. Perhaps it was because Birajans recovered from these things quicker, or perhaps it was because he was still weak and malnourished, he didn't know. But what he did know was that Mishta dropped his feet to the ground the moment he stirred and announced he could walk the rest of the way because she was done carrying him. His butt hit the floor as whoever had the top half of him struggled with his near dead-weight, and he heard Lansha's voice mutter an apology, before the hybrid walked into view, or at least the lower half of his legs did. The hooded cloak they put him back into obscured everything else. He pushed the heavy fabric back a little way to get a better view of their surroundings and get his bearings.

It took a minute or so longer for Sheppard to remember what had led up to the familiar after-effect of the stunner shot he knew he'd taken. She was angry with him for helping to save her brother's life? That didn't make any sense to him, but then not much about Mishta did, so he decided to waste no time putting his aching brain to the task of trying to figure out what he'd done to upset her now.

'I thought you said she was warming to me,' he grunted, tentatively testing out his legs as Lansha loaned him his arm and hauled him to his feet.

'Oh, she's not mad with you,' Lansha chuckled grimly. 'Her anger is solely caused by me this time. Unfortunately, when Mishta is angry, we all tend to suffer.'

Sheppard pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd promised himself only seconds ago that he wouldn't waste his fried brain cells on trying to figure her out, but he was already falling into the trap. 'Okay…I give up…what exactly did you do wrong…oh, wait –' He experienced a lightbulb moment. ' – it's the flashlight thing, right?'

'No…no...she's already forgotten that. She is furious with me for almost getting myself killed.'

'Ookkaaayy,' Sheppard drawled. 'Not sure why she's angry about that. The way I recall it, she was the reason you broke cover.'

'She believes I put your safety in jeopardy…and protecting you was supposed to be our priority,' Lansha said with an odd expression that suggested he wasn't convinced of his sister's reasoning. 'So, you see, she _has_ warmed to you…at least a little. Only a day or so ago she wanted to kill you…and she hadn't even met you then.'

Sheppard screwed up his face. 'That's pretty harsh.'

'Don't be too hard on her. She's just trying to save the universe.'

'Yeah…I guess that _is_ a lot of pressure to work under…' Sheppard mused. Saving Atlantis from the Wraith and various natural disasters had been nerve wracking enough…and Rodney was always snapping everyone's heads off on pretty much a daily basis. So Mishta was like a female Rodney…and now he wished he'd never thought that… 'I think it's in pretty safe hands if she can take down a thug like Kaliq single-handed.' He paused, realising he hadn't actually seen how that all concluded. 'She did take him down, right?'

'Oh, yes. We'll have no more trouble from him,' Lansha assured him, his expression slightly queasy.

Sheppard laughed, and shook his head at the thought of someone as comparatively slight as Mishta tackling a brute like Kaliq. That had taken some guts and determination. 'She's a tough cookie, your sister. Mentally and physically.'

'A warm meal and a good night's sleep will improve her mood, I'm sure,' Lansha grinned. 'That and the fact we now have sixty-five thousand credits to take home with us.'

'Sixty-five?'

'Kaliq's henchmen had obviously demanded to be paid in advance to secure their services…and they no longer required the money.'

Sheppard smirked at that. 'I suppose it's not stealing if they were already dead.'

'And they were dead through their own bad choices. Had they not provoked us, we would not have struck them down.' Lansha gave him a grin and a casual shrug. 'The payment seems justified.'

They walked on a pace, Mishta checking back to ensure they were keeping up with the group from time to time. Even though it was painful at first, the exercise seemed to speed up Sheppard's recovery from the stunner blast, something he made a mental note to mention to the doctors in Atlantis if he ever found his way back to his own time. It was good to know his theory of getting on his feet instead of resting up was right in at least some cases. All the same, he was glad when they made it back to their transport craft and he could put his feet up for the rest of the journey back to the rebel camp. He hadn't seen action for some time, and this had proved to be one hell of an exciting trip to market.

Suddenly that whole rest thing didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

oooOOOooo

The secondary sun had set a while back when Hakkar brought his ship in to land at the foot of the mountains leading to the Greetak Caves. He set his craft down in an area out of sight of the main route up the mountain, drew the stun weapon he had chosen before leaving Phylacos, and began the ascent to the cave entrance.

He'd left another of his men guarding McKay once he'd received word from Akalus that an Ancient facility had been activated in the region. Of course, it had to be a strong clue that the missing human was alive and close by, but since the scan that had picked up the signal had only been carried out an hour before his landing there, there was no way of knowing how long the facility had been operational. The human was most likely long gone…but a stun gun was his weapon of choice just in case he wasn't.

But whether the human was still there or not, a search of the facility might give him some clue what the human was up to and where he might be now. Finding him and returning him to Agrastan was his priority. Anything to stop Akalus succeeding with his undoubtedly sordid plans.

He made the climb in short time. Though older than the other Kheprians, Hakkar was still physically strong and walks of this kind were common on his home world where the terrain was mostly mountainous on the meagre landmasses, and the oceans were broiling and tumultuous. He was used to the physical excursions of mountain walks, and now the suns had set the temperature was forgiving enough not to slow him.

When he reached the mountain cave he saw nothing but the gaping maw and shadows stretching out beyond. He tapped a square panel at the centre of his chest armour and it glowed into life, giving enough illumination to allow him to walk forward and explore without fear of tripping.

A couple of steps in he thought he heard a whisper. He halted instantly, tilting his head in what he thought was the direction it came from.

Nothing.

It had possibly been nothing more than wind passing through the cavern, so he thought no more of it and walked on.

Behind him, there was a shuffling sound. He spun, his light bouncing off the surrounding rock formations and casting distorted shadows that confused his mind for a fraction of a second before he realised no one was there.

When he turned back, he found three Reliquiae planted in front of him, hissing deep in their throats. He stumbled back a few paces, startled. Though a seasoned soldier, these females had a reputation that left him scared like no other species could.

He held up all three of his pincer hands to show he meant no harm. 'I am not here to cause any problems for you, Mistresses.'

Footsteps rang out from behind the trio blocking his path, and out of the darkness came the Reliquia he recognised as Oolanae. He dipped his head in respect.

'Our paths cross once again, Kheprian,' she growled, stepping in front of her sisters. 'Why are you here?'

'Akalus ordered me to send troops to investigate the activation of this Ancient facility. I came myself so I could return the human to you if I found him here.'

She eyed him suspiciously, as did the others, and he felt his mind spin a little as they probed him for the truth of his answer. Once satisfied, Oolanae said, 'He is already gone.'

They all turned as one without any verbal communication and receded into the darkness. He followed, assuming that since they hadn't instructed him to leave, his presence would be acceptable.

As the Reliquiae continued on in front of him they journeyed from solid stone to cold metal, the sound of their footsteps becoming hollow and echoey as if walking aboard one of the Kheprians' large harvesting vessels. Around them, the construction lit up at their entrance. Hakkar had been to this cave once before to explore it, but it had never reacted this way before. The human had awoken it.

He was so in awe of the technology he could see that he almost tripped over the considerable bulk of a body lying on the floor just inches in front of him.

He nudged it with his foot for confirmation, but the dull, waxen complexion suggested the creature had been dead for some time. A large pool of thick, dark blood had congealed around its head and a laceration was visible on his neck. As Hakkar allowed his gaze to drift further around the room he saw other fallen aliens, a Birajan and two Volgats. It was a strange mixture of species to find together, but since they weren't far off from the usual site of the weapons market, it was likely this was a financially beneficial alliance, nothing more.

'They have some of our weapons,' Oolanae said, her flanged voice echoing around them. 'They were stolen when the human went missing.'

'So, you believe these villains abducted him from your fortress?'

One of Oolanae's sisters bent down and plucked the guns from the stiffened fingers of the Birajan.

'Perhaps,' she hissed. 'And then brought him here to test his true worth.'

'But how would he have bettered four of them?' Hakkar asked, looking at the bodies strewn about them. 'He was but one, and he was not strong.'

'We restored some strength to him to ensure he would live long enough to help us. It might have been enough for one such as he,' Oolanae purred, tilting her head and wandering her way over to him. 'Do you truly not know of John Sheppard?'

John Sheppard. He'd never known the human's name. He had only ever been one of the hundreds of human prisoners in Phylacos – names not necessary. But even now he knew what to call him, the name meant nothing. He shook his head.

'Many years ago, when we were known as the Wraith, this man killed a great many of my kind, foot soldiers, commanders and queens alike. His name was known to almost every Wraith. Feared and reviled. And then he disappeared. Never heard of again for over sixty-thousand years – until now.'

'Then it is revenge on this human you seek?' he asked.

A ripple of laughter coursed through the sisters. 'Revenge can wait. Our goal is only to revert to what we once were. If that happens through an act of betrayal in Sheppard revealing Atlantis' position, then that reversion will be all the sweeter. Our enemy becomes our saviour. There is a certain symmetry to it, don't you think?'

'But how will you feed?' Humanity is long dead.'

She walked closer to him now, stroking one of his upper limbs. 'There are humans at Phylacos to sate our hunger. Once you are freed from the control of Akalus, and we have renewed our strength with the humans at Phylacos, perhaps our peoples could strike a deal for you to bring us more. We can begin our own human cultures once we have fed. Allow them to grow and thrive until we need to feed again. This is how it was always done. The humans will live again, just as the Wraith will. And balance will be restored to the galaxy.'

The question of whether these females had become as insane as Akalus entered his head now at those words. Akalus always ranted about needing to "restore universal balance", although he never explained how he planned to do it. But Hakkar had to trust them. They were the only ones who might assist him. 'If you help me to overthrow Akalus now, we could take you back to a time when the Wraith were great and perhaps they could tell you how to return to your former condition. Would that not be simpler?' Hakkar suggested, hoping to tempt them into helping with his own plans for Kheprian emancipation.

Again, they laughed, a doleful and strange sound…almost like wailing. 'If we approached the Wraith, they would see us as nothing more than a chance to feed. We would not survive long enough to ask them for anything,' Oolanae explained. 'This is our only hope to return to our rightful and former glory.'

Though disappointed by their reaction, he understood their reasoning. They were prepared to take the more difficult route to reach their destination because it was the only one that held any hope for them.

'Is there no information here to help with your quest?' he asked. This was an Ancient facility, just as Atlantis was. He wondered if it might hold some information on their former state.

'None…not even any clue as to Sheppard's destination once he left this place. There was no information accessed on any screens, all we know is that he left with others. There are tracks, and his scent lingers outside, but he must have left in a craft as it ends abruptly some distance from here. He travelled with another human of sorts, though his scent wasn't as pure. It had definite hints of Birajan, though the human scent was dominant.'

'A Human/Birajan hybrid? There can't be too many of those around. That could help us track him,' Hakkar mused. He could make enquiries. Many were afraid of the Kheprians' stature and would happily give any information they had to keep themselves safe from Akalus' loyal minions.

'Yes…we also thought so,' she nodded. 'For now, we must content ourselves with knowing the human is at least still alive and all hopes for salvaging our former status are not lost. If they wanted him dead, they would have killed the human here.'

Their reasoning was sound. A human held great value in these parts. He would remain alive until he could be sold on…might continue to live if someone wanted to show off their prized human possession. 'I will continue to assist where and when I can,' he promised them.

That brought the merest hint of a smile to Oolanae's troubled face. 'Thank you Kheprian. If you bring us the human, your help will not be forgotten.'

The other Reliquiae collected up the other Wraith weapons dropped by the fallen mercenaries and silently departed, Oolanae giving a final dip of her head Hakkar's way as she followed them out.

Hakkar waited a few moment's longer, taking in the Ancient technology surrounding him. He'd had no idea of how advanced the Ancients were. Having travelled from the outskirts of the other side of the galaxy, all he knew of humans was what he saw in Phylacos. Until meeting Akalus, they had never ventured far enough back in time to discover them before they had died out.

The Kheprians had arrived on Gragoffa some decades ago now, and were befriended by the Birajans instantly. They had been fascinated by their crafts, their ability to travel through time. A group of self-professed scientists had insisted there was someone they should meet, someone who shared their fascination with time travel.

That was when they had first encountered Akalus.

He had seemed a gracious host, giving them lodgings in the large compound he had bought from the local Birajans on his own arrival on the planet many decades earlier. It was not luxurious, but it was a base for them to explore from, and they were grateful for his generosity. Communication had been difficult; their translators, set to decode languages from their own region of the galaxy, had been ill equipped to cope with the languages in use on this planet. But Akalus, a self-declared language expert, had agreed to work with them to upload new information that would update their translators and enable them to communicate more clearly. That idea had been readily accepted by all…and then the next thing he'd known was suddenly becoming self-aware again with the human…the one the Reliquia had called John Sheppard, beating him nearly senseless again with his own disconnected limb.

The punishment the human had received for his attack had been utterly shocking, cruelty beyond measure. The sight of the man skewered to the floor of his cell and held there quivering in shock and agony while Akalus had railed and ranted against his refusal to comply to the requirements of his imprisonment had been an image that had played over in his mind through many restless nights. His screams filled any silence his brain didn't fill with other thoughts. This was not the Kheprian way, and yet his men had carried out the punishment with no sign of compunction or remorse. Thankfully too dazed to speak out, Hakkar had quickly realised that his men appeared to be under the total control of their _gracious host,_ doing his bidding without question. So, he had remained quiet to observe them and keep up the ruse of his own obedience, His quick-thinking no doubt saving him from being reprogrammed by their _master_.

When the human had finally passed out from trauma and blood-loss Akalus appeared to have a change of heart, telling his Kheprians to release him and move him swiftly and carefully to the laboratory. They had done so with such unquestioning efficiency that it was immediately clear to Hakkar that this was something they were used to doing…that this was not the first time, or even one of the first times, they had made this journey with an injured human. They acted as if under a spell, capable of some level of free thought, but only in as much as to discuss how best to carry out Akalus' orders to the best of their abilities. Not one of them questioned the validity of what they did.

For the next few hours he had followed his men around the facility, now having access to levels that they had not been shown on their arrival. He held his tongue, set his thankfully excellent mind to memorising the layout of the base and the function of each room, and followed Akalus' instructions to the letter just as his troops did. After a few days, he concluded that Akalus had enslaved his people when reprogramming their translation units, and that the beating he had taken from the human had somehow disrupted those changes. Akalus had clearly added a little programming of his own when updating their language database, an additional subliminal coding stream that bred an unerring loyalty to him. The human had somehow damaged his unit, the translation part still working for the most part, although it did occasionally buzz with static and make listening hard, but whatever extra signal his unit had given out to control him was gone and now he was free from Akalus' hold.

The human had given him back his own mind and with it the opportunity to emancipate his men…and now he was considering handing him over to a race who would force him to give them information they needed and then most likely rip him limb from limb. He looked down at the now healed area of his body where the limb Sheppard had used to club him had once been attached. For a while he'd born anger that the human could do that to him, but he had no recall of what had been done to Sheppard to provoke such a reaction. The man had most likely acted in self-defence when faced with a room full of aggressive Kheprians and Akalus, all demanding samples of his tissue, muscles and body fluids. The blame really could not lie with him, no more than the mistreatment of humans lay with the Kheprians. The only one to blame was Akalus.

Much as it went against his nature, Hakkar had needed to continue the pretence of serving Akalus, so he had punished the humans based on unspoken rules he learned by watching the actions of his fellow Kheprians. Kheprian military protocols demanded fairness and tolerance when handling others and it had sickened him every day to be so cruel, but to disobey would have alerted Akalus to the change in his condition, and he needed to stay close to his people to figure out how to free them. So far, he had been unsuccessful. But the programming no doubt lay well hidden in some encrypted file as yet undiscovered in Akalus' vast database of information. His Kheprian experts in coding were under Akalus' influence, so his own attempts to find it would most likely remain futile. And no Birajan in the facility would help; perhaps they too were similarly influenced, either that or they were mindless acolytes because they also never questioned anything Akalus ordered them to do.

As he considered that, he made a new realisation. His approach to the Reliquiae had been a deferment to his military mindset…a desire to overthrow an identified evil by force, but the Reliquiae were busy with their own agenda and who knew how long it would take for that to be resolved, or whether they would even help him when it was done? He realised now his first plan, the idea to find the code, was the right one to follow. All he needed was the loyalty of one being with the competence to find the subliminal control sequence holding his men hostage to Akalus' will.

And Akalus himself had already handed him access to just the right person.

oooOOOooo

That evening, Sheppard tried to sleep, but thoughts of death and suffering filled his over-stimulated mind. Though he'd listened to Goronak's explanation of what his future held with initial scepticism, by the end of his speech he had enough details to know there might be some truth in it, something that had him on edge. He was even named in the prophesy…if you believed in that kind of thing. And although normally he would shrug it off, for some reason that little gem had eaten away at him since he'd heard it and wouldn't be ignored. With him, the universe would end, at least it would if Akalus had his way. That was some burden to shoulder.

He felt more trapped now than he had when he'd tried to sleep in Phylacos with the disturbed creatures whose screams had filled the desolate corridors outside of his cell. He was stuck in a future that he had no desire to be part of and no idea how to get back from. And on top of that he felt hunted. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw either the Kheprians mounting one of their numerous assaults on him, or the five Reliquiae females grinning insanely as they tried to hook him on enzyme. The remembered sensation was incredible, and there in the midst of his dreams it was real all over again. Most times he woke as they closed in on him, his mind shutting out the sensations the enzymes had unleased. But this time he felt their bony fingers gripping his limbs and the huge needle puncturing his vein, along with all the dizziness and pain and euphoria that involved. He tried to cry out, but no voice would came – tried to lash out, but his fists were heavy as lead. As he lost consciousness in his dream, his eyes snapped open to reality.

A pair of violet eyes stared back at him.

He shot up in his bed, giving a cry of shock.

Lansha leapt up, too, relaxing his stance as he saw who had joined them. 'Mishta, what are you doing in here?'

'Goronak asked me to guard the human…particularly after yesterday's events.'

'And you couldn't do that from outside the shelter?' her brother asked, clutching his chest as he recovered from the shock.

'He was restless. I came in to see if he was all right,' she replied dismissively.

Sheppard rubbed at the back of his stiff and sweaty neck as he caught his breath. His clothes clung to him where they touched and his sheets lay twisted and balled up on his bed, testament to the fact she might be telling the truth. 'Well, you damn near gave me a heart attack,' he finally managed to sputter.

Her expression didn't alter. 'I didn't mean to. I apologise.'

'Yeah, sure you do,' he grunted, untangling himself from his bedclothes and straightening out his achy back. He was feeling the after-effects of Kaliq's slamming him into the shelving yesterday, pretty sure he was bruised up as a result of it. At least the creep wouldn't be coming at him again to traffic him to some nympho alien. 'Mind if I go for a walk around the camp, or are you going to follow me out there, too?'

'If you stay within the confines of the camp, there's no problem. Mishta will stay with me,' Lansha assured him, his expression wordlessly telling his sister there was no room for negotiation.

'But Goronak said -' she began to protest.

'He'll be fine, Mishta,' Lansha insisted. 'Who in this camp will harm him?'

'Except you,' Sheppard suggested, pointing out the obvious.

'I…I was hasty in my judgement of you, Human. You proved yourself a man of your word yesterday. I should have shown you more respect.' She finally dropped her gaze as if genuinely ashamed.

Sheppard gave her a puzzled look, as he pulled on his boots and tried to work out her new ploy. 'Uh…yeah. Whatever. I'll be outside if either of you need me.'

He wasted no more time in getting out of there.

Sheppard walked through the camp, throwing quick but uninviting smiles to other Birajans as he passed them and they greeted him, hoping they would take the hint that he wasn't in the mood for company. He needed space and time to process everything he'd learned yesterday, and in all honesty, the previous day's debacle at the cave hadn't given him any time to do that.

As he passed by the campfire, plates of breakfast were thrust his way, but he declined them as politely as he could. Food was something he knew he needed, but was just about the last thing on his mind right now. How could he eat when the future of the universe lay in his hands? How could anyone eat with a catastrophe like that looming? He picked a log at the outskirts of the clearing and sat down on it, dropping his head into his hands and wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this mess and make sure his team got out of it too…if he still had a team. That thought left him sick to the pit of his stomach. He'd failed them…not just Teyla, but all of them. If they were dead, that was on him. He should have fought harder.

A droning sound in the sky caught his attention then. He looked toward the sound, shielding his eyes from the brilliant early morning primary sun to seek out the source, spotting a small dot silhouetted against the vast expanse of blue. Since flying craft were commonplace on this planet it didn't worry him at first. Then all the hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention. That sound was eerily familiar…it couldn't be…could it?

He noticed that others sitting nearby were now looking up at the sky, too, pointing toward the approaching vessel. He got the distinct feeling this was an unexpected visitor…and not a welcome one.

The droning changed pitch as it neared, turning into a high-pitched whine he was certain he recognised.

'Human. Run!' he heard Mishta call to him, and he spotted her now heading his way at speed.

Sheppard rose, doubt making him falter. Was it really a dart?

'Run!' she yelled again. 'Reliquiae!'

That was all he needed to hear to get him moving. He set off at full tilt, running for the woods.

From beneath the craft, a beam flashed out; he saw it from the corner of his eye and knew it was a harvesting beam. Crap! The Reiquiae had found them. They were in big trouble now.

The screech of the engines grew deafening. Again, Sheppard heard Mishta's voice ring out above the sound. 'Swerve!'

She was only fifty yards or so behind him now.

He veered sharply to the left, and the light skimmed the ground to his right. Mishta followed his course, catching up to him with every step she took. Malnourishment, sickness and imprisonment had taken their toll on him; he was already gasping for every precious breath that would fuel his tired limbs to keep going. This was not a fight he was equipped for, but he wasn't about to give up just yet.

The ship turned to follow him. As it passed over the group's transporters, it fired on them. A massive explosion ripped through a few of the crafts, sending Birajans scattering and vehicle parts showering across the camp.

They were taking out their means of escape.

Mishta remained undeterred by the blast. He checked back over his shoulder and saw her still making up the distance between them, instinctively ducking as the dart swooped over her head, making another approach for Sheppard. At that moment he tripped, spilling to the gritty ground before he reached the cover of the trees. He rolled onto his back and saw the dart shoot its culling beam toward the ground, sweeping up a couple of Birajans as it made its way toward him.

He began to scramble to get back to his feet and out of its way. Thankfully Mishta was now upon him, and she thrust out her arm to yank him upright again. 'This way! Lead it away from the camp!'

He accepted her help and seconds later was bolting along with her. He'd already learned she had fighting skills and a tactical mind; he figured she was his best bet to resolve this situation with the minimum amount of losses for her people…and hopefully without getting snatched up either.

The whine of the dart passed above the tree tops towering over them. The beam appeared briefly through the branches. He managed to catch hold of Mishta and pull her back away from it, the pair of them landing in an ungainly, heap but soon untangling themselves from one another to begin running again.

The pitch of the engine altered. He knew that meant it was turning for another pass. 'Go…go!' he yelled, pushing her aside and only just scrambling back out of the beam's path. His heart thundered with a rage and passion for life he had thought he'd never feel again, but this could only end one way, couldn't it? He was exhausted and now he was down he wasn't sure he could get moving again. Should he sacrifice himself and save Mishta and her people? Would that even spare them from the Reliquiae's wrath? They were running out of other options. He had to make a decision.

The beam began cutting its way through the trees toward him. He clambered to his feet and watched it approach, ready to throw himself into it, hearing Mishta scream, 'What are you doing? Get out of the way!'

A pulse of energy ripped through the air over the tops of the trees, the sound so forceful that he spun away from it, falling out of the line of the harvesting beam.

The next thing he knew. Mishta had hold of him and was yanking him up by the shirt. 'Come on! We just have to keep moving until they take it down.'

They? Did she mean the rebels? 'You have anti-aircraft weaponry?'

She threw him a disbelieving look, like he'd asked the dumbest question she'd ever heard. 'Of course.'

'Of course,' he mumbled, as she pulled him along by his shirt sleeve.

They headed up a rise, the ground falling away sharply to their right down toward the river. Mishta encouraged him to keep going as his strength waned and his lungs and thighs burned. His legs were turning to lead beneath him, but the trees were thickly crowded together and would provide better cover at the top of the rise. He could see that for himself and Mishta confirmed it as she urged him on, pulling him along with her as she strained and tugged him up the incline.

Another pound of energy sent ripples through the air around them, shaking them off their feet. Sheppard looked up to see the dart wobble and waver, but maintain altitude. The rebel's shot had missed, only knocking the ship off course for a moment. That wasn't enough to deter the Reliquiae, and it was soon back on their trail. The beam swept the ground only inches in front of them again, their efforts to stop short sending them tumbling several feet back down the slope. Sheppard lay on his back, gasping for air, doubting he could even get back to his feet if he wanted to. He'd given all he'd got. He was spent.

'Come on, Human, it isn't much further,' Mishta coaxed, trying to get him to his feet again.

He did his best, but his knees buckled as soon as he stood. He dropped to the ground. 'Go…I'll be right behind you,' he lied, hoping she would get herself to safety.

Their eyes met, and he saw the recognition there. She knew if she left him, he wasn't going to follow. She refused to listen, hauling him to his feet again, where he managed to remain albeit rather unsteadily. But there was no way he was getting up that hill and they both knew it.

The distant whine began to mount again as the dart came after them once more.

'Go,' he said in earnest. 'Get to cover.'

She looked up behind him, watching the approaching craft, her breath hitching as she desperately tried to think of something, and her fury at the futility of their situation almost overwhelmed her. She let got, backing away, eyes still fixed on the dart. Then her gaze snapped back to him with such a spark of grim determination he knew she'd come up with a plan. And he didn't think he was going to like it.

A second later Mishta was running at him full pelt. She threw herself into him, her body slamming into his and sending them both rolling down the drop to their right just as the harvesting bean illuminated the spot they'd just occupied. Barely aware of which way was up, Sheppard desperately tried to stop himself falling, but the momentum and steep downward slope made it impossible…

…and then he was in freefall.

Not that he had much time to worry. He impacted the surface of the river completely horizontal, the force of it crushing the air out of his lungs as the current pulled him under. His exhaustion and the shock of pain through his whole body made it almost impossible to fight his way back to the surface, but his survival instincts finally chose to kick back in and he headed toward the sunlight despite the river's best efforts to claim him.

Once he breached the surface he spotted Mishta up ahead, struggling against the flow. He figured if he swam with it rather than fighting against it he had a chance of catching up with her and wasting less of what precious energy he had left. It took what felt like an age to make up the water between them, and he only just made it in time. Having used up all her strength in battling against the river, Mishta was going down for the third time as he collided with her. He caught her arm and dragged her back to the surface. She was only just conscious and offered no resistance. Not that he had much fight left himself. They were in trouble if they didn't get out of the water soon.

Up ahead, Sheppard could see the water breaking against rocks rising from the riverbed. Dangerous as they looked, they were their best chance of survival. If he could get them both up onto the top of the rocks and out of the water, they could regain their strength, get their bearings, and try to swim for the bank. But that was not going to be easy judging by the power of the current sweeping them along. Still, whatever the risk, they had no other choice.

He did his best to turn them both so he took the brunt of the blows as they collided with the first mound of rocks, but Mishta took a battering, too. Her head clattered against the stones as the water crashed against them, and then she was out cold, completely limp in his weakening grip. Sheppard clung to the rock with his one free hand, expecting the water to rip him loose again at any moment. He needed to revive Mishta so she could help herself. But this was the second crack to the head she'd had in less than twenty-four hours. He wasn't hopeful.

'Mishta!' he yelled over the roar of the waters, choking as the waters swelled and rushed into his mouth.

She didn't react, even as he coughed and sputtered in her ear.

'Mishta!' he tried again, squeezing as hard as he could with the arm he'd wrapped around her waist.

Her head lifted a little, then she apparently remembered where she was and began to panic, her flailing almost tearing them both free from the rocks.

'Calm down!' he yelled. 'I need you…to get hold of…the rock. Can you do that?' he panted, the shoulder of the arm he was clinging on with now burning like it might pop out of the socket at any moment. Holding on would have been hard enough, but still carrying the aftereffects of his shoulder injuries from Phylacos made it so much harder.

Coming to her senses, Mishta flung her arms onto the rock and scrambled to find hand holds on its slippery, algae-covered surface. Eventually, she did, and Sheppard was able to let go of her. The relief of no longer holding her extra weight gave him a new surge of energy. One of them had to get right up on top of that rock, so it might as well be him. Pulling himself up wasn't easy, but sheer stubbornness and a complete refusal to accept the complaints of his battered, exhausted body got him up there. Once securely in place, he offered his hand to help Mishta climb up there with him.

'I can do this,' she insisted, but try as she might, she couldn't get out of the water. She didn't have the strength left in her.

'Swallow your pride and take my hand!' he yelled, thrusting it out to her again.

This time she didn't dare refuse, snatching at his hand, and allowing him to haul her up. Only now did she begin to cough and splutter out the fluid that had spilled into her lungs during her desperate attempts to escape the rapids.

Sheppard flopped back against the rocks, gasping in air as he tried to catch his breath from the struggle. His body hurt, but he was used to that. He'd been in pain for such a long time in Phylacos, he'd grown accustomed to discomfort. He closed his eyes, savouring the sensation of being alive when he'd really thought he was about to meet his maker. He even let out a chuckle of sheer relief as he patted his choking companion on the back, though laughing was the last thing that seemed appropriate in their situation. They were still stuck in the middle of the damned river. It was only when Mishta stopped hacking out water that they became aware of the sound of the dart's engines approaching once again.

They both looked up. There was no mistaking the ear-splitting whine. The Reliquiae had followed the course of the river to find him. They were sitting ducks.

'Oh, crap!' he gasped.

Mishta was speechless. They sat stranded in the middle of the river with nowhere to go but back into the water from which they'd only just escaped with their lives. Sheppard knew the Reliquiae wouldn't kill him. He was too valuable to them. But Mishta was another matter. She needed to get out of there.

'You should go…go…go now!' he insisted.

'I can't. I have no strength left!'

The craft was almost above them, the beam shooting out once more and carving toward them across the surface of the water. There was little time for gentle persuasion. 'If you don't take your chances, they'll definitely kill you. If you survive, you can come look for me.'

After a short pause she nodded, and was about to throw herself in when he heard a crack of energy tearing through the air in front of them. They heard the impact, followed by an explosion from the dart, and then the Reliquiae craft screeched out the awful wail of an unplanned descent, barrel rolling as it went.

Instinctively, they both ducked as it passed over their heads, Sheppard doing what he could to shield Mishta from any potential harm. The heat from the fires burning within it warmed the air as it sailed low over them in its sudden decline. Squeezing his eyes tight shut, half expecting the ship to hit them, it was with some relief they heard it come crashing down into the water…until the wave its abrupt arrival caused hit them and dislodged them from their relative safety.

But they weren't left at the river's mercy for long. The buzz of another craft, barely audible above the roaring current, soon joined them and their rescuers plucked them from the raging waters as they desperately clung to the rocks they been swept back toward, hauling them from its freezing clutches to the warmth of the morning sun that shone down on the open-topped transporter.

Suddenly cold as the shock of his adventures set in, Sheppard found himself trembling as rivulets of bloodstained water dripped from his clothing and pooled on the floor of the craft. The stinging sensation now building to a crescendo across his back told him the rocks had done a lot more damage than he'd realised. One of his small Birajan companions removed his coat and draped it around his shoulders; another did the same for Mishta, who shivered equally fiercely on the opposite side of the transporter. Blood ran down the side of her face, a huge scarlet stream of it staining the collar and most of the shoulder of her tunic and another cut on her arm dripped blood onto the floor of the craft, mingling there with his to disguise the fact he was hurt. He was happy to keep it that way. Sheppard knew it probably looked worse than it was, but he wanted them to focus on Mishta's injuries. Head wounds bled a lot, but she seemed alert enough now, just cold and every bit as shocked and sore as he was. He hoped that meant she would be okay.

In less than a minute the craft had them both safely back in camp. With help, they climbed back onto solid ground, Sheppard more falling than stepping out with only the quick reflexes of the Birajan male beside him preventing him from face-planting.

Lansha and Juroah were swiftly there, the former taking hold of his sister's arm and wrapping it around his shoulders until she reassured him that she was fine to walk unaided. Juroah loaned his support to Sheppard to aid him to the camp fire, it's warmth a welcome thing in the midst of the aftermath of the Reliquiae attack.

Behind them, the three crafts hit by the Reliquiae continued to smoulder, while those able to fought to put out the flames and salvage what they could. The crying and wails of pain from injured Birajans brought back horrific and unwanted feelings of helplessness for Sheppard as someone wrapped a blanket around him. He gratefully pulled it in tighter about his neck for warmth as he battled back the sense of despair now threatening to overwhelm him.

'This is your fault!' a voice cried out over the din.

Sheppard recognised it. It was Marmotah.

He lifted his lolling head and looked over his shoulder to see the Birajan running toward him across the clearing. Great, more trouble. He stood and turned to face his accuser on legs barely able to hold his weight.

'You brought this upon us, Wraith Slayer!'

Sheppard heard the collective gasp and felt all eyes turn toward him as Marmotah slammed his hands into his shoulders. He might have stumbled back into the fire if it hadn't been for the fact that Lansha was already moving to intervene and caught him. He forced his arm out toward the Birajan, locking his elbow so the alien could not get beyond its reach as he tried to advance again. 'Enough, Marmotah. The Human did nothing wrong.'

'Nothing wrong! My father is dead. Is that _nothing wrong_?'

Beyond Marmotah, Sheppard saw a covered body being carried on a hover board away from the destroyed crafts. He'd obviously been caught up in the explosions. He swallowed hard and said, 'I'm sorry…'

'You're sorry?' Marmotah screamed, his lilac eyes ablaze with pure, unfiltered hatred. 'And is that supposed to right this wrong?'

'No…of course not…'

Marmotah launched at him, this time a couple of other Birajans pulled him back while Lansha again held him at bay.

A moment later the furious Birajan was flat on his back, Mishta sitting on top of him as she ripped open his outer coat and pulled out a Wraith stunner from beneath its folds. 'What are you doing with this?' she demanded, her wet hair dripping blood-stained water down on his startled face.

Suddenly Marmotah was remarkably quieter. 'I…I took it…yesterday…from Kaliq.'

'And did you fire it?' she demanded, grasping handfuls of his coat to lift him and slam his body back into the ground again.

'Only a couple of times…we…we used it for hunting…this morning…'

She climbed off him, still shaking although it appeared with fury this time. 'Goronak gave explicit orders that these should not be used…that we should get them out of the camp as soon as possible. But you thought you knew better. You always think you know better.'

'I only fired it twice,' he whimpered, trying to sit up.

She booted him in the chest, knocking him down again. 'They were looking for the human. They were bound to be tracking their missing weapons. _You_ brought this on us. Your father's blood is on _your_ hands.'

'Stop…Mishta…he understands,' Juroah interceded, taking hold of her by the upper arms and gently but firmly persuading her away.

For the first time since she'd risen, Mishta wobbled, then stumbled, clutching at her head with her empty hand while still holding onto the stunner in the other.

Lansha joined Juroah in supporting her back to her place at the fireside, while Marmotah, timid now in the face of her charges, scrambled away and headed into the woods.

'He disgraces us all,' Juroah hissed, trying to persuade Mishta to sit. She refused his attempts.

'I cannot rest now. We have to get rid of this and we have to move the camp!'

'Hush, now,' Lansha chided gently, applying force to her shoulder to make her sit. 'Take a moment. You've had quite the adventure.'

She shrugged his grip off with a violent action. 'Don't treat me like a child. Our lives are in danger!'

'She's right,' Sheppard interrupted, shedding his blanket and joining them. 'If they sent that dart out to get me because of the stunner fire, the Reliquiae have made our position. They'll come again, you can bet your lives on that.'

Mishta dropped the stunner to the ground, snatched her brother's gun from his belt and shot it repeatedly so it was left half melted and sparking, finally giving up completely. 'Where's Goronak?'

'The Founders' shelter came under fire,' Lansha explained, his voice taking on a new gravity. 'Karema was hit. She's dying. He's with her.'

Though that news clearly impacted hard, Mishta merely set her jaw and strode away to find their leader. 'We have no time to grieve now. We need to move or we'll all be dead.'

Juroah, as if predicting what the outcome of that conversation would be darted away, calling to everyone in the vicinity to begin packing up only their most essential belongings and be ready for evacuation.

Terrified Birajans, some of whom now looked upon Sheppard with true fear, began to back away at first, and then run in the direction of their shelters.

A few moments later, only Lansha and Sheppard remained at the campfire.

The hybrid locked eyes with him, also showing fear, but not of him, more likely of the unknown – of how long they had before the Reliquiae came to hunt him down again. 'In the back-left corner of my shelter there is a large chest. Throw in whatever of mine looks important. I will begin to collect up Mishta's things.'

'What about Marmotah?' Sheppard called to his retreating back.

Lansha smiled as if pleased he was still concerned about the Birajan after all the revelations. 'We will find him. He won't go far. He isn't half as brave as he pretends to be.' He headed off and left Sheppard completely alone for what had to be the first time since before Mehra's arrival in his cell at Phylacos. But it wasn't as uplifting a feeling as he'd thought it would be. Gone were all thoughts of escape. These people needed his help; he couldn't abandon them now.

Sheppard looked back over his shoulder at Lansha's shelter and sighed. All he wanted to do was lie down and rest his aching bones, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Forcing himself to move, he adopted a weary, trudging jog in its direction. The sooner they were packed, the sooner they could move, and the sooner they were moved, the sooner he could get the rest he craved.

So…no time for self-pity, then.

* * *

 **A/N: Nope, I am a cruel writer and you are at my mercy, Sheppard. Bwahahaha! Sorry, got caught up in the moment there. Hope you all enjoy the chapter. :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Phylacos scientists were busy at the local market buying supplies when Tamrak set his master's plan into action. Much of their equipment was obsolete now, but Akalus preferred them to buy replacements only when originals completely ceased to function, keeping his credits to fund the materials required for genetic experimentation and more harvesting runs. As they rummaged through pieces traded, salvaged or undoubtedly stolen from various sources, they bartered and haggled to get the most out of the pittance Akalus granted them for such trips.

Seeing the Birajans thus engrossed, Tamrak cautiously approached them. With the device designed to provide his disguise considered fully functioning and deemed safe for his use, he wound his way through the bustling crowds to join in the activity with Akalus' minions. It was essential to the success of the plan that he got closer to the group. In doing so he hoped to isolate one of them and lure them out of sight of the others before adopting their appearance as the prince had instructed him to. He didn't relish the idea of using such technologies on himself, or anyone else for that matter, but Valkalar was not one to accept refusal. Tamrak feared his disapproval more than he did using such an unnatural means of disguise. The device he might just survive – Valkalar's wrath he would not.

Eventually, Tamrak's patience paid off. One of the Birajan's ventured further away from the group of scientists, walking into the merchant's trade centre to examine some of the larger pieces of equipment contained within the covered stall.

Tamrak followed him, staying at a slight distance until he was sure none of the others were about to follow. Fortunately, they were all heavily involved in negotiating a price for a new scanner, and didn't notice either his or their colleague's movements.

Once certain the Birajan was well out of sight of the others, Tamrak seized his chance.

Grabbing hold of the startled Birajan, he allowed the device his master had given him to scan the alarmed individual, storing data, generating a copy, then he stuck the disk to himself and allowed the image to project around him. Alarmed at looking at a perfect copy of himself, the scientist was caught off guard when Tamrak pulled a weapon and shot him square in the chest. He dropped instantly, dead before he hit the ground.

Tamrak grabbed the Birajan and dragged his lifeless body behind some stasis pods where it would be out of sight to most curious shoppers for a while. If he was lucky, it might remain undiscovered until it was time to close up for the night. He said a small prayer to the Ancestors to send his soul on its way, and to beg their forgiveness for his transgression. He had never killed anyone before, and the sight of the Birajan's lifeless lilac eyes glazing over left a deep emptiness inside him he doubted could ever be filled. Perhaps he had lost his soul. Was that the price for such a crime?

Realising he had been in the covered stall for a few minutes now, Tamrak decided to re-join the others before anyone missed him. As he straightened up, he caught sight of his reflection in the stasis pod he'd stashed the body behind, staring straight into the eyes of the scientist he'd just killed. Feeling sick somewhere so deep inside that he couldn't even identify where, Tamrak stumbled through the various items of equipment and almost fell back out into the dull light of the late evening sun.

He found the other Phylacos Birajans and hung around close by them as his new friends finalised a deal for the scanner of their choice. Finally, they reached an agreement with the vendor, credits changed hands, and the machine was crated up and ready to go.

The slightly built Birajans wrestled the box onto the back of their transporter, evidently pleased with their purchase. They babbled excitedly about its specifications, and the speed at which it purportedly worked, none of which meant anything to the bewildered and self-loathing stranger in their midst.

Tamrak remained silent, laughing along occasionally when their conversation called for it, but nothing more. He had no way of knowing how the Birajan he had replaced usually acted, so it seemed only sensible to try not to draw attention to himself.

After riding in the craft for several miles, Phylacos loomed into view. It rose from the desert landscape like a mirage…or, perhaps more accurately, a nightmare. A feeling of dread filled him as they neared the fortress. Playing a Birajan out in the wide world hadn't troubled him much. Playing a Birajan in the presence of Master Akalus was a completely different matter. He wasn't convinced she wouldn't immediately see through his façade.

Despite his reservations, Tamrak soon found himself ensconced within the walls of Phylacos.

They were met by a deployment of Kheprians once within the confines of the compound, and they thankfully took over the transfer of the new scanner to the laboratory. As he followed the other scientists to their dormitory to rest after their long trip, it occurred to Tamrak that he had no idea which bed belonged to the Birajan he had become. He watched the others milling around, realising that even if he let them all get to their beds first, there would still be more than one empty bunk.

Seeing some of the others heading through to the bathing area, he had an idea. He took off his coat and asked one of the others to throw it on his bed for him while he freshened up. Watching where the coat landed, he now knew where he should sleep. Problem solved, he continued with his plan to get clean.

Later, they would have their shift in the laboratory, and he would see, first-hand, this genetic marvel his master hungered for. Then, he would need to formulate a plan to get her out of there undetected.

oooOOOooo

That evening as the sun began to set, the rebels sat around a campfire in a new location many miles from where they'd woken that morning, and many miles further away from Phylacos. They now huddled in a dense forest, where the canopy provided ample cover from prying eyes in the sky, and frequency jammers blocked any scanners the Reliquiae might search with. Tonight, tired and fearful, they hoped it was enough to keep them all safe while they came to terms with their losses.

Juroah handed Sheppard a cup of something warm and wet, patting him on the back with a smile. He tried not to wince. His back felt raw following his collision with the rocks in the river, but he didn't want to appear ungracious since Juroah was showing him some signs of friendship.

Mishta sat on the opposite side of the camp's fire, where they both recovered from their unexpected dip. She hadn't said much to him, but that in itself was somewhat of an improvement in their relationship considering the barbed comments and insinuations he was used to. From time to time, he would catch her looking at him through the flames, but she always averted her gaze to avoid conversation. He really couldn't get the measure of her. She almost looked…coy? That had to be a mistake…or wishful thinking.

Sheppard sipped at his drink and, to his surprise, found it quite pleasant. It tasted like some kind of broth, a little salty for his taste, but not so much that he couldn't drink it. It sure as hell helped to chase the chills away.

Lansha joined him at the fire. 'Things are certainly quiet tonight after the excitement of this morning,' he said softly, warming his palms in front of the flames.

Mishta looked hugely unimpressed with his attempt at chit-chat. 'I hardly call the deaths of three members of our group "excitement",' she hissed over to him, cuddling further into the blanket she had wrapped herself in.

'But you're both well, so I'm happy,' he smiled, slapping Sheppard heartily on the back.

This time, he couldn't conceal his discomfort, hissing 'Ouch!' through gritted teeth.

Drawing back his hand, Lansha looked horrified at the sight of blood on his fingers. Because his shirt was so dark and they'd been so busy with the move, no one had realised Sheppard was bleeding.

'You're injured!' Lansha gasped, lifting the back of Sheppard's shirt without invitation. It pulled at his wounds, opening them up again.

'It's nothing,' he groaned, closing his eyes as he rode out the discomfort of Lansha's examination. 'I just took a few bumps in the water.'

He opened his eyes again and Mishta was no longer visible through the flames. It took him a moment to realise she was now behind him examining the extent of his injuries along with her brother and several others from the group who had notice the sudden flurry of activity around him. He already knew there were several gashes on his back from the rocks they'd struck in the river; he'd felt them earlier while he was alone packing Lansha's crate.

'Bring medical supplies,' Lansha ordered, his words directed at no one in particular, but sending many of the group scurrying to obey him. Soon, they had more supplies than they actually needed.

'Now, leave him in peace,' Mishta growled, her tone so threatening that Sheppard himself felt like he should leave.

Evidently, Mishta's moods had been experienced by many of those present. They soon retreated and went about their various tasks in setting up the new camp.

'Take off your shirt,' she ordered Sheppard.

He peered back over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow. Did he dare joke about that line again? Yeah, he did. 'What? Here…? Shouldn't we go somewhere…you know…more private?'

She rolled her eyes and sighed, but he could tell she was fighting away a smile. That was more than he'd gotten out of her last time. 'You saved my life out there in the river. It's our tradition that I should serve you until I repay the debt,' she explained, picking up the clean cloths and water now lying beside him.

Sheppard looked up at Juroah, who nodded to signal it was true before complaining about being hungry and wandering off toward a nearby shelter.

'Look, it's really not necessary. I'm fine,' Sheppard said, letting his shirt fall to cover his back again.

'You don't look fine,' Lansha said.

'I said, I'm fine,' he reiterated. 'It's just a couple of scratches. I've had worse.'

'Our customs say she must perform this act. Mishta herself must tend to any injuries sustained during her rescue. She will always carry the debt if you don't allow her to serve and repay you.'

He eyed her dubiously as she waited, damp cloth in hand, to clean his wounds. He wasn't sure he relished the idea of having Mishta for a nursemaid. She didn't strike him as the gentle sort. 'But you saved my life first,' he pointed out. 'You got me away from the Reliquiae. That makes us even, right?'

'They wouldn't have killed you. They need you alive,' she grunted, as if she had already mentally debated that argument and lost.

He sighed. 'All right. Get it over with, and then we're even.'

'Not until I have saved your life.'

'What?'

'That's how the obligation is settled. Until I save your life, the debt remains, and I must serve you.' The expression on her face said it all; she was also far from happy with this turn of events.

Turning his back to Mishta, he lifted his shirt to allow her to sponge his wounds clean. 'Okay…if tradition insists. Do your worst.'

She forced the shirt the rest of the way over his head, and began to tend to his injuries. And, yes, just as he expected, Mishta made a much better fighter than nurse.

'With the Wraith weapon disposed of, we will hopefully be hard to find again,' Lansha mused, sitting down beside him as his sister worked, 'because if the Reliquiae know we have you, they're sure to keep searching for you. We can only hope the pilot of that ship did not relay any important information that could identify us back to her fellow Reliquiae before we shot her down.'

'I can't believe even Marmotah could be so foolish as to fire that weapon in our camp,' Mishta muttered, dabbing harder at the scrapes on Sheppard's back. 'And then to announce to everyone who you are…it's a pity he wasn't the one to die in the attack, not his father.'

'Mishta!' Lansha gasped.

'You know every word I say is true,' she hissed back to him, dropping the cloth she had been using to clean Sheppard up in the bowl of water sitting beside him, turning the water red. He sagged a little with relief that her ministrations were over, but it turned out his relief was premature. Without warning she rubbed something cold and stinging into the worst of the gouges.

'Arggh! What the hell?' he complained, turning to the side so she couldn't reach his wounds.

'Don't be a baby,' she snapped, grabbing his shoulders and trying to square him up again. 'Let me finish.'

'Only if you promise not to take your relationship difficulties out on me!' he barked back, regretting it when he saw the change in her expression. He'd known Marmotah was a sore point for her. That had been a low blow.

'Turn around and I'll try to be gentler,' she said more softly, the wind taken out of her sails.

He did so, feeling the need to say something to ease the situation. 'I'm sorry about that…I get grouchy when I'm in pain, that's all.'

'It's fine…you're right. My mind was on other things. I wasn't taking enough care,' she replied, making him feel even worse than he already did. He wasn't sure he liked deflated Mishta. Fiery, angry Mishta was a lot more fun.

'A story we have heard too many times,' her brother muttered.

Sheppard felt her hesitate for no more than a second, then her touches became slower and lighter, as if the enthusiasm was ebbing out of her with every criticism. 'You know, where I come from there are nurses way rougher than you. You're doing a great job,' he lied, feeling guilty that he'd started this argument.

He glanced Lansha's way, noting the man's doubtful expression and slight smirk. He frowned back at him, a look designed to tell him to lay off the girl and not say what he was thinking. Lansha stayed silent, and Mishta's touch became a little livelier again. He hadn't pegged her for the insecure type, but then again, the pent-up anger she was carrying had to be hiding something.

Juroah meandered over in their direction from the other side of the campfire, chewing on some kind of root. He pulled a few more from his pocket and offered them around; Lansha accepted, but Mishta was too busy and Sheppard didn't feel the occasion was right. Stripped to the waist while having his back smeared in some kind of highly pungent ointment didn't strike him as the ideal snack time.

The older Birajan walked around behind him to examine Mishta's work. 'Nasty scratches those,' he said. 'But Mishta will soon have you better…she won't want to be doing this too many times!' He started to chuckle, Lansha grinning along with him.

Mishta was noticeably silent.

'Well if knowing I'm the one who's going to end the universe isn't enough for people to steer clear of me, the smell of that stuff she's rubbing on my back there should do the trick.'

'Ah, but it encourages tissue growth, so the isolation will be worth it,' Juroah joked, settling down on the other side of Sheppard. 'Besides, Mishta owes you her life…she'll keep you company.'

The older male chuckled, Lansha joining in this time. He wasn't laughing quite so loud when Mishta kicked him in the thigh and left him howling. Apparently, Juroah could get away with a joke like that, but not her brother.

'I won't hold you to that,' Sheppard assured her, reaching down for his shirts as she began to put away the medical supplies.

She snatched up the wet cloth that had been soaking in the water bowl and cleaned her hands as best she could on it as she picked her way to a free spot a little distance away from them. 'It's our tradition,' she shrugged, as if she was already resigned to the fact she would have to be a companion to him. 'You'll have to let me repay the favour before either of us have a choice.'

She continued to rub away at the greasy lotion covering her fingers, frowning with concentration that seemed more focused on not looking at him than genuinely examining her hands. She was embarrassed…another emotion he didn't normally associate with her.

'You know…you two should give her more respect,' he whispered to the men sitting either side of him as he carefully slid his t-shirt back on.

'Oh, she knows we mean no harm,' Juroah assured him, reclining on one elbow to enjoy the warmth.

'Does she?'

His question actually had them shooting slightly guilty looks toward one another, as if he had opened their eyes a little to the error of their ways.

'You know, if you guys wanna make a stand against Akalus, you need to keep her happy. From what I saw today, she's pretty much the most useful one out of you in the field. You really don't want to make her feel alienated. If you push her away, you lose a vital asset.'

Juroah blinked at him, and then allowed a smile to slowly spread. 'Spoken like a true warrior. You have the measure of her already.'

He looked Mishta's way just in time to see her avert her gaze from him, yet again. Until tonight, he'd thought she watched him because she didn't trust him, but the looks she was giving him tonight felt less…accusatory. 'I wouldn't say that, but I think I have a better idea of just how much of an asset she is than anyone else here does.'

And now Lansha was smiling too. 'Seems my sister is not the only one experiencing a change of heart since your meeting.'

Sheppard looked back and forth between the two of them as they began to giggle. They watched him, glassy-eyed, and Lansha did his best to stop under the strength of Sheppard's disapproving glare, only to sputter it out in an even bigger burst of laughter. Now Sheppard understood why Mishta hadn't taken the root. It was some kind of narcotic, and the two of them were now reduced to sniggering schoolboys.

'You know…it's been a long day. I might turn in for the night,' he said, making his excuses to leave.

'No…not now,' Lansha protested. 'You have so much knowledge of Phylacos you can help us make our plans to take down Akalus' little power base.'

'Hush now, Lansha,' Mishta suddenly called over from where she was brooding. 'John is tired…let him rest for one night before troubling him with anything else.'

Lansha's eyes widened. 'John?' he repeated, smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes, but Sheppard felt sure he saw a new rush of heat to her cheeks. 'Well, there's no point in worrying about using his name now, is there?' she snapped defensively.

That set them off chuckling again.

Sheppard, however, wasn't laughing. Her use of his name gave him a strange tingle that ran the full length of his spine, and he wasn't sure if it was just because someone had finally said it, or because _she_ had said it. He licked his dry lips. 'She makes a good point,' he quipped. 'I can see who's the brains in this operation.'

The two men laughed again, only for Lansha to break off with, 'Oh, no. I am the brains…she is the muscle. Our father always told us so.'

Juroah began a little reminiscence of their father then, regaling them with a story of the first time he'd ever hunted with them. While Lansha joined in, laughing at the fond memory, Mishta looked more downcast and simply shook her head with a kind of sadness that seemed out of place. He felt bad for her, and was about to go over and try to get her talking when several snippets of conversation from the past two days clicked into place in his mind and he suddenly knew _exactly_ what these guys had planned.

'You're gonna blow up Phylacos?'

The two men stopped laughing instantly. 'How…how do you know that?' Lansha stammered. 'Has someone spoken to you?'

'No…'cos no one here tells me a damn thing.' From the corner of his eye, he saw Mishta tense and move her right hand toward her thigh. He shot a look over her way. 'I swear to God, if you pull a gun on me, young lady, you _will_ regret it.'

She paused, but she wasn't looking at him; she was waiting for Juroah to speak. The old Birajan, signalled a downward motion and she allowed her arm to relax again.

Sheppard looked back to Juroah. 'My people are still inside that place. If you blow it up they'll die...along with countless other innocent humans.'

That same sheepish look came across Lansha's face that he'd worn when Sheppard mentioned mounting a rescue mission shortly after they'd met. Now it made sense. Lansha had known there was no hope of a rescue. 'I appreciate you have friends imprisoned in Phylacos, but you have to understand –'

'No… _you_ have to understand I can't let you do this!' Sheppard snapped back at him.

He knew there were extra eyes on him now, as other Birajans, drawn by his raised voice, emerged warily from their temporary shelters and headed toward the amber light of the camp fire.

'But Akalus has to be destroyed,' Lansha tried again to explain.

'So, find another way!'

'John – you have to listen. We –'

'Lansha,' Juroah warned, sobering quickly. 'It isn't wise to tell him more with the threat we face from the Reliquiae. They have ways of getting into the mind…no matter how unwilling that mind is to share its secrets.'

'But you're not planning to let me fall into Reliquiae hands, are you?' Sheppard curtly pointed out.

'No, though we can't guarantee it won't happen,' Juroah countered. Sheppard could see the conflict in him though. They wanted to trust him, but just didn't know if they should.

'So, take a risk,' he whined, frustrated by their lack of trust in him. 'Do you honestly think they'll give a crap about your plans if they get their hands on me anyway? Akalus is nothing to them.'

Mishta and Lansha exchanged a long look that suggested they were considering giving him his explanation. Juroah, however, saw them wavering, and stepped in with his own advice.

'Before this goes any further, I think we should seek Goronak's permission.'

The two hybrids nodded, and Sheppard felt compelled to accept that, once again, he would have to wait for the Founder to agree to a meeting before he had his answers. That didn't mean he had to like it.

oooOOOooo

In the Phylacos laboratory, Teyla began to stir. Her eyes fluttered, then snapped open as she found herself strapped to a bed in a place she didn't recognise. How had she got here? Where exactly was here? She'd woken every day for the past six months in the mines. This made no sense. And then the recollection of her journey here came back to her. She'd been brought to the lab by the guards from the mine, restrained, sedated and then…

She winced as she felt a pain in her side as she looked down at herself and her bonds. There was a scar on her arm, and the pain in the right side of her abdomen told her she might find another there if she were able to see it.

'Teyla?'

She'd been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't realised anyone was in the room with her. The voice was familiar, though not overly so, but she knew the face as soon as she was able to lift her head and lock eyes with her companion.

'Sergeant Mehra? How did you get here?'

'The bug dudes kidnapped me, same as you.'

And then Teyla saw the bloodstains on the sheets of Mehra's bed. 'What have they done to you?' she breathed, shocked by the sight of it.

'I'm okay,' the sergeant lied, clearly in some considerable pain. 'It looks a lot worse than it is. How about you?'

'I do not know,' she said, letting her head fall back against the table as a wave of sedative-induced dizziness overwhelmed her. 'I barely remember how I got here.'

'I met a guy who told me he'd seen you down in the mines…Ronon, too.'

'Yes,' Teyla murmured. 'Ronon was there, but I have not seen him for a while now.'

'Me and Sheppard saw him –'

Teyla was immediately alert. 'Colonel Sheppard? You've seen him?' She hadn't seen any sign of either John or Rodney since their imprisonment. The sound of his name set her heart soaring. She'd been so worried that they'd both been killed.

'Yeah…Sheppard was here…we ended up in the same cell. But he was sick…and there were these critters that took him that are apparently gonna make him better –'

'Sick?' Her heart plummeted again at those words. 'How sick?'

'I'm not gonna lie…it was bad,' she admitted. 'But those man-eating critters that came for him…Geeja said they would save him because he was important to him. They didn't kill him when they grabbed him, so I'm hoping she's right.'

Man-eating creature? Teyla's head was spinning through drowsiness and too much confusing information. 'Who is Geeja? And where did you see Ronon?'

'Sorry…I'll back it up for you. Sheppard was real sick, so Geeja, some kid who helps out around here, reckoned she knew this race of…things who could save him. Only Sheppard didn't wanna know 'cos he'd heard they ate people…I mean, like, ate them alive. But Geeja was all…no, no, no, they won't do that to you, but he didn't believe her. Anyway, next day when he's at death's door, we get taken out of the cell by one of the bug guards and told to wait on a balcony overlooking that big chamber you get dumped in when you first get here. And the man-eating freaks are there. Akalus is offering them prisoners to snack on, and that's where we saw Ronon.'

Teyla gasped. 'Then Ronon is –'

'No…sorry, no. At least I don't think so. Didn't mean to scare you. He fought his way out of there. You know what Ronon's like. Probably on the loose kicking the enemy's asses one by one as we speak, right?' She screwed up her face in pain, but soon masked it with a grin as if trying to convince Teyla things were better than they were.

Mehra's optimism despite her obvious injuries made Teyla smile for the first time in a long time, but the reality was she still had no idea where any of the other members of her team were now. 'I hope so,' she sighed, ignoring the single tear trickling from the corner of her eye.

'Hey. You up for getting out of here?' Mehra asked.

Teyla lifted her head to look at her again. 'We are both restrained. How do you plan to do that?'

'Well, they're not gonna keep me here forever. They have to take my cuffs off some time, and when they do –'

At that moment a group of Birajans turned up. One of them instantly began loading up a syringe, and Teyla got a sinking feeling in her stomach that it was meant for her.

One pushed her head back down to the table she lay on and held it still while the one with the syringe drove it into her neck.

'Hey, leave her alone! Don't put that crap into her, you little bastards,' Mehra ranted, but it was already too late. Teyla could feel her consciousness dissolving even as Mehra continued to fight and rail against the Birajans now turning their attentions to her.

oooOOOooo

Once again, Goronak granted Sheppard an audience. This time, the other remaining Founders joined him.

After the attack from the Reliquiae, they were all more than aware that there was little time left for them to put their plans into motion. Now, after a trip to Entuura, they had everything they needed to move forward.

Sheppard seated himself directly opposite the Founders, with Mishta sitting right beside him. But for once, there was no sense of malice to her presence; when he glanced at her she even offered him a quick, nervous smile. He tried to return the gesture, but he was angry and still a little unnerved by her change in mood, along with the confusing mixture of emotions he was beginning to experience toward her. He wasn't sure he pulled it off.

Lansha, perhaps using his sister as a shield against Sheppard's annoyance, sat on her other side, Juroah beside him, and behind them the rest of the rebellion gathered to hear what Goronak had to say.

From the expression on their leader's face, it seemed clear Goronak was less than impressed to be put on the spot by the human once again, especially at such a difficult time, but he patiently waited for everyone to settle, and then set the meeting running.

'Tonight, we will discuss our plans for Akalus with you all,' he began gravely. 'As you all know, he grows stronger, and less than three months remains before the event. This human and his abilities,' he gestured to Sheppard, and he felt the eyes of everyone gathered there lock onto him, 'pose a tremendous threat to life in this universe, and Akalus is aware of his existence. We can wait no longer. We have to bring this to an end now.'

For one horrible moment, Sheppard thought they might be talking about killing him, but that was not their intention. Mishta stared at him; he felt her eyes burning into the side of his face, but refused to acknowledge her. He wanted to focus on Goronak's words, and right now, whatever her intentions toward him, she was an unwanted distraction.

'Tomorrow, we move on Phylacos and destroy it.'

A whisper rippled through the gathering. Apparently, that was a frightening prospect to many gathered there.

'How will we do this?' a voice called from the rear of the tent.

'We've acquired the explosives we discussed at our last meeting. Now, we need to get someone inside Phylacos to plant and detonate them.'

'Just wait a minute!' Sheppard said, determined to make them really think about the consequences of what they planned to do. 'There are hundreds of innocent humans in that compound. What do you plan to do about them?'

'Nothing,' was Goronak's stark response.

'Nothing? You can't just kill them. You have to get them out first!' he protested, but it was apparent from the questioning expressions on their faces that they didn't understand his concern.

Only Lansha showed any sign of remorse for the decision they'd made. 'I know this must seem unjust, John -' a rumble of conversation rippled through the others as hearing his name confirmed what Marmotah had said, 'but there's no way we can get the others of your kind out safely before putting the plan into action. It just isn't possible.'

'Isn't it?' Sheppard demanded, locking eyes with the nervous hybrid. 'And exactly how much time did you spend contemplating their fate before you came up with _that_ decision?'

'There won't be time,' Goronak explained, his voice now strident as he reasserted his hold on the discussion. 'Anyone venturing into Phylacos will be lucky to get through the doors without being detected. There's no way of saving the humans, and from what I've heard of what goes on behind the doors of that place, I would think death will be a blessing for them anyway.'

'You people have no idea what life is like inside that place,' Sheppard growled. Mishta was still staring intently at him, he could feel it. A glance at her face showed she understood something of his former suffering; the scars on his shoulders had given it away to her, probably mixed in with the horror stories she'd overheard her father sharing. She looked at him with a strange mixture of sympathy and admiration, and he suddenly felt amazingly self-conscious about how he was conducting himself. She was clearly warming to him, and he didn't want to let himself down in front of her.

Lansha, perhaps embarrassed by Sheppard's statement, now tried to placate him and soothe the disagreement. 'Though what you say might be true, Goronak, we have to acknowledge the fact these humans _are_ innocents,' he said. Then, turning to Sheppard, he added, 'We're truly sorry that this is our only way forward. They will be afforded full funeral rites.'

That made him full-on burst out laughing. 'You're going to blow them to pieces! There won't be anything left to bury!'

'Then, we'll pray for their souls, and ask for them to be granted entrance to the eternal hereafter,' Lansha promised.

'Well, I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to them.' Sheppard glared at him, making Lansha shrink into himself. He knew Lansha meant well, and that out of everyone there, he was one of the few who understood his frustration most keenly, but he really wasn't helping matters.

'They cannot be saved,' Goronak insisted, making a sharp gesture with his hand as if to underline that statement as final. 'These humans are long dead. Only the Kheprian ships have granted them this opportunity to live on. They are out of their time line here; things must be returned to their rightful order.'

'So, send them home,' Sheppard snapped.

'It isn't that simple -'

'Get a Kheprian ship. That should make it simple.'

'We've already explained the ships are not accurate in their travels. They can only return to a set starting point, not travel to a desired destination in the past.'

'And I have a friend inside Phylacos who could probably fix that little glitch, _if_ we get him out of there.'

Surprisingly, it was Mishta and not her brother who set a steadying hand on his arm. 'You must listen, John. Goronak speaks the truth.'

'No, he doesn't,' he said, shrugging off the gesture. 'He speaks _his_ truth, not _the_ truth.'

'Human, please -' Goronak interrupted.

'My name is Sheppard,' he yelled, rising to his feet despite Mishta's best efforts to stop him. 'John Sheppard. It's not a secret anymore, so show some respect and use my damn name!'

His outburst shamed them all into silence. All eyes lifted to him.

Lansha was the first to speak again. 'Even if we could persuade the Kheprians to help us, they could never return you to your homes. The potential problems of returning you when you have knowledge of the future could have dire effects.'

The news that he could never go back to his previous life struck him with the force of an express train. He stared at Lansha, his brain racing to find a way around what he had told him. 'So, the best thing you people can think of doing is killing them all?' he asked.

'It's the kindest solution. They would never be safe from predators in this region,' Goronak said, so-matter-of-fact that it took all of Sheppard's immense will power not to call him every bad word he'd ever heard, and perhaps a few new ones he could make up on the spot.

He shook his head in exasperation. 'This is the problem,' he said, more quietly now. 'You're no better than Akalus. You have no respect for humans. You treat us like we're dumb animals. We are _real_ people. Real living, breathing, people, with families, friends, children. Maybe you think I'm just an irrational, over emotional inferior being, and maybe you're right, but how would you all feel if it was Birajans in those cells, or working in those mines, or being eaten alive in front of you?'

His aggravation now threatened to get the better of him. HIs chest heaved with the sheer effort of trying to catch his breath, his head swam, and, for the first time since being treated by the Reliquiae, he felt the signs that all was not well inside his body once more. Was it taking hold again so soon?

'Please, sit down,' Goronak said firmly.

Sheppard felt a tug on his right arm. Mishta still gripped his sleeve, trying to gently persuade him to resume his seat.

Sensing that ranting was getting him nowhere, he allowed himself to drop back down to the floor.

'I'm sorry our methods don't meet with your approval,' Goronak said, obviously struggling to keep his tone civil, 'but we are doing what we can to save the entire universe. It is no small task, and unfortunately blood will be spilled along the way…as we have already seen today.'

Sheppard wanted to say something scathing about them not caring as long as it was human blood, but he bit his tongue. Arguing was getting him nowhere. Their loss was still raw. All they wanted now was to take revenge on somebody…and Akalus was it.

'Saving the universe has to be our priority, and the only sure way to do that is to destroy Phylacos, and hopefully take Akalus down along with it. The humans will sadly be casualties of war because we have no means to get them out. So, as I was saying, we have obtained the explosives and now we must devise a way to get them in there.'

'I'll take them in,' Lansha offered.

Sheppard couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'You? I thought you felt sorry for the humans!'

'I do. I was also the one who found the means to kill them. It's my responsibility to see this plan through.'

Sheppard rubbed his temples. Lansha was the one person he'd felt was on his side, yet now he was the one offering to blow Phylacos to pieces. 'This is insane,' he muttered to himself.

'I'm not sure it would be wise to let you go,' Juroah said, finally breaking the silence he had maintained throughout the arguments. 'As you said before, you cannot pose as one of his workers, and as a Birajan/Human hybrid, you could also be of some value to Akalus. You and Mishta should stay well away from that place.'

'I could tell him I have news of John's whereabouts, and plant the explosives while I am inside.'

'And when he has heard your news he will undoubtedly kill you,' Goronak told him. 'I would prefer to try another option if possible.' The Founders muttered their agreement. 'Obviously, it would be better for a purebred Birajan to make the attempt. They would at least blend in with Akalus' Birajan workers if necessary.'

'Then, I offer my services,' Juroah said. 'I will make the attempt.'

Mishta's face fell. 'No, Juroah. You can't!'

He silenced her with a patient look, his expression telling her she shouldn't put her personal feelings above the needs of so many.

'That might work,' Lansha conceded. 'But I'm sure even the scientists will know you don't really work there, and they are all loyal to Akalus and his ambitions.'

'So, I'll appeal straight to Akalus - infiltrate through the main entrance. If he believes I am offering my services to him out of faith in his destiny, he'll have no cause to distrust me.'

'Akalus mistrusts everyone,' Mishta said. 'And he sees everything that goes on within those walls. He'll know you aren't true as soon as he meets you.'

'So, what do we suggest?' Goronak asked. 'Maybe we could create a distraction and break in during the confusion.'

'Could we get that close in large enough numbers to create a diversion?' Lansha asked. 'It would have to be something impressive to bring them out of Phylacos and leave it open for infiltration.'

Sheppard listened to them speculating, knowing more about Phylacos than any of them, and yet they didn't ask for his advice. These people were hell bent on the need to take down the facility and would stumble in there blind and get themselves killed, leaving Akalus free to go ahead and end the universe. He knew what had to happen, and without even thinking about it, he heard himself say, 'I'll go.'

All eyes fell on him once more. After a lengthy silence, he heard some nervous and slightly uncertain laughter from the Birajans gathered behind him. Goronak held up a hand to silence them, and hush descended once again. 'What did you say, Human?'

Sheppard gritted his teeth, fighting with the desire to remind the Founder of his name…again. 'I said I'll go.'

This time, no one dared to make a sound. They all waited eagerly for Goronak's response.

'You?' the Founder said, unable to contain his disbelief.

'That's what I said,' Sheppard repeated, setting his jaw.

' _You_ will take our explosives into Palaquora?' Goronak said, as if he had to hear it again one more time before he could fully comprehend it.

'Yes.'

Goronak sat back and stared at him, incredulous. 'You can't be trusted with this,' he breathed.

Sheppard tossed him a scornful smile. 'Fine. Then, I guess your plan is as good as sunk.'

The Founder looked bewildered. He turned to his fellow Founders, who all looked equally astonished. Sheppard spoke to them as if he was their equal, and that was apparently unthinkable.

'Why do you imagine we're unable to carry out our ideas without you?' Elliah asked him.

'Because if this Akalus is anywhere near as powerful as you say, you're all going to be killed before you set one foot inside Phylacos.'

Mumbling sprang up behind him again. They discussed what he said, and for the most part, seemed to agree with him.

Mishta hushed them, her body language betraying a level of anxiety beyond that she'd displayed when her brother and Juroah had offered to make the trip. The look in her eyes silently asked him why he had volunteered, as if it was totally beyond her comprehension that he should do that.

The Founders continued to whisper among themselves. It seemed that even they were considering he'd made a valid point.

Frustrated that no one was conversing with him about his suggestion, Sheppard spoke up again. 'I'm no stranger to suicide missions. If you know I'm the Wraith Slayer you have to know that, too. I'm the only person Akalus will willingly let through the doors alive, you know it and I know it.'

Goronak temper began to fray. 'Hush, Human. We're trying to think!'

'What's there to think about?' he demanded. 'You know I'm right. I am the only one here who has any hope of getting into the facility.'

'But that puts you back in Akalus' hands!'

'Well, do you honestly think he won't come looking for me anyway? And the Reliquiae have already located me once. Don't you think _they'll_ be mounting another operation to find me again? My being here puts you all in danger, so use me.'

The whispers behind him now sounded tinged with fear. It was only a matter of time before they came under attack again, and a future attack from the Reliquiae could have dire consequences for the male members of the camp if they came in numbers.

'Your only hope of diverting his attention from you is to hand me over. You know he'll be more than happy to take me back...and maybe he'll brag about it to the Reliquiae, too.'

What had begun as a whisper, now built to a rumble. Once again, Goronak called the meeting to order. 'Please, everyone. Stay calm,' he urged.

Sheppard stared at him until Goronak finally met his gaze. 'So, are you going to send me in or not?'

The Founder shook his head. 'You yourself said destroying Phylacos was unfair to the humans inside it-'

'And I still think it is, which is why my offer comes with conditions.'

'Conditions?' Lansha said, apparently surprised the human thought he could push Goronak so far. 'What terms can you possibly put to us that would make you consider taking on this mission?'

'Simple. I want to give the humans a chance to get out before it blows. You need to find a way to make that happen.'

Juroah and Lansha gaped at each other. Mishta's eyes remained fixed on Sheppard. 'What do you mean, give them a chance?' she asked.

'All I want is to buy a little time for them…and some way of getting the doors inside Phylacos open.'

'There's no way to do that!' Goronak insisted.

Lansha held up a finger, clearly thinking it over. 'Actually, Goronak, there might be a way.'

Goronak at least had the grace to look intrigued. 'Such as?'

'We might be able to disrupt the power in Phylacos, if only briefly,' Lansha said. 'There are many species that drink at the Lokorit Tavern, and they talk openly of the technologies they have acquired, as you know. I believe I've heard mention of such a disruption unit. Perhaps it would be possible to purchase one strong enough to block Palaquora's power from outside the perimeters.'

Sheppard struggled hard to keep a smile from his face. They were listening to him at last, and coming around to his way of thinking. He might not agree with their plan wholeheartedly, but at least this way he could give some of the human prisoners a chance to break free. With any luck, his team and Mehra would be among them.

'We do still have a lot of currency left,' Juroah added. 'It might be possible to purchase such a unit, and still leave ourselves with enough to continue funding our cause if this attempt fails.'

'If this attempt fails, we'll be in a worse position than we are now,' Goronak reminded them. 'The human will be back in Akalus' hands, and we'll have less than three months to retrieve him.'

'If it goes wrong, I'll take myself out before he gets a chance to do whatever it is he has planned,' Sheppard promised. 'We've got a least two months before we have to panic, right?'

'Why are we even considering this?' Goronak asked, almost laughing at the insanity of it. 'He's a human, and not just any human, he's The Wraith Slayer. We've all seen the writings. With him, the universe ends. He can't be trusted with a mission of this magnitude. Leaving it in his hands might be how he brings about our fall.'

But apparently, not everyone shared his mistrust. What had started as whispers of derision now swiftly changed to rumbles of support. Even the other Founders seemed to be contemplating Sheppard's proposal. They had to know he was the only one who could implement it.

Lansha took his side once again. 'The event is not due to happen for some weeks yet. We will set the explosives to go off within hours of being taken into Phylacos. If Sheppard remains inside he will die. He cannot be used to end us if he is dead.'

Goronak looked around at his gathered troops, all eager to hear his answer. He dropped his head, shaking it with a sigh. 'How soon could you acquire this disruption unit?' he asked Lansha.

'With the credits we have at our disposal, I'm sure I'll have suppliers fighting to provide whatever I ask for,' Lansha told him, his words brimming with conviction.

'So, if we said…tomorrow?' The Founder ventured.

'I'll go to the tavern tonight…if the price offered is generous, I have a feeling we could have it before sunrise,' he nodded.

Looking grave as he regarded his fellow Birajans, Goronak addressed them one last time before calling the meeting to a close. 'If we're able to activate the disrupter at Phylacos, we could potentially set free not just the complete humans, but also those incomplete wretches we've heard of. Are you all willing to live with the possible consequences of this action?'

Concerned looks were exchanged and comments muttered, but the consensus of opinion remained that, in return for Sheppard's invaluable assistance, they should help the humans and deal with the consequences if or when they arose.

'Then, it's agreed,' Goronak announced, the graveness in his tone plain to hear. 'Lansha will acquire the disrupter, and the human will take the explosives into Phylacos. We'll meet again tomorrow at sunrise to report our progress.'

They all began to file from the tent, many of them patting Sheppard on the back or squeezing his shoulder as they passed him. Each one sent pain shooting through him, but this time he could hardly feel it. In the end, only he and Goronak remained seated, their eyes locked.

Sheppard held the Founder's gaze steadily, but his insides churned, betraying his true fear. There was no way of knowing if he could get everyone out of there, but one way or another, these people meant to destroy Phylacos, and if he had to risk his life to give the humans inside a fighting chance of survival, then that was what he would do.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi, I'm sorry to say I'm going to have to drop down to only one chapter a week for about the next month. I run an internet business and it is crazy busy at this time of year, so I only get time to edit my chapters at a weekend, and then only one of them. I'm also really sorry I haven't replied to those people kind enough to leave a review for the last chapter. I will get to that as soon as I get a bit of free time because I rely do appreciate the feedback. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Frustration threatened to take over Ronon as he carefully and strategically made his way up through the various floors of Phylacos, methodically searching each room for Teyla or at least a sign that she had been there. He was tired, weak and hungry, and the constant hiding meant often he was forced to lose ground and conceal himself for lengths of time, times at which he caught snatches of sleep and woke disoriented and even more frustrated than he had already been.

At first he'd seen a few tracks to follow, traces of the Mootaq dust they would get covered in while mining that had fallen off her clothes as she and the guards had travelled, but eventually that had run out and now he had to resort to checking everywhere for fear of missing something vital.

This was all taking too long. Eventually, someone would notice the missing personnel he'd taken out and they would be alerted to the fact that someone was on the loose in the facility and send out search parties to hunt him down. He had to find Teyla fast, because every extra moment he spent in this place put him at higher risk of being discovered. If caught, he doubted he would ever get a chance like this again. That focused his thinking. He wouldn't waste the chance he'd been given.

So, he kept edging on, hoping each and every time he listened at doors and carefully opened them that this time he would find Teyla, and she would be in a fit state to escape.

Just as he was about to exit another disappointing room, he heard noises up ahead on the passageway. He stopped short of stepping out, pressing against the door frame and peeking around it as far as he dared to see how many figures were barring his progress.

He instantly recognised the stature and clothing of the little creeps who had vetted him on arrival at the compound. These were medics, not fighters. If he had to, he could take them on.

But thankfully it looked like he wouldn't need to. The trio of medics shuffled away in the opposite direction, their voices growing more distant until they faded out of earshot all together. Much as he would have enjoyed inflicting some pain on them, just like they'd done to him, this way was easier.

Once sure no one else was emerging onto the corridor, Ronon moved out of the doorway shielding him and began proceeding along the passage, moving cautiously, checking each room as he progressed, eventually reaching the room he felt certain the medics had vacated earlier. But was the room empty now? He pressed an ear to the door and listened. It was hard to be sure, but he thought he could hear movement behind the thick metal barrier. His sensitive hearing was picking up something, but it was hard to tell if it was vocal tones. Possibly…

A second later the door was sliding back and another little figure stepped out, his face buried in some kind of tablet just the way he'd seen McKay walk around back on Atlantis. In the split second it took for the tiny figure to realise he wasn't alone, Ronon had already grabbed him and snapped his neck, even catching the gadget before it could clatter to the ground.

But more than that, in the adrenaline of the moment he had seen something through that door before it had begun to close again.

He'd seen Teyla.

oooOOOooo

Alone in Lansha's tent, Sheppard sat on the edge of his bed and held his head in his hands. He'd had ample time to think over his suggestion to the Founders, and now wondered when exactly the last hint of his sanity had imploded. What on earth had possessed him to say he would blow up Phylacos for them? Sure, he was the only one in the camp who could get in there, that wasn't in question, but why hadn't he just persuaded them not to do it? And he kept coming back to one realisation; just like them, he actually believed that Akalus could end the universe and had to be stopped.

And since they'd been so stuck on the idea of blowing the damn place up, it had left him with no choice other than to get right in the middle of the action if he wanted any chance of saving anyone being held in there. Maybe he could strategically place the explosives to cause the most structural damage possible in the areas more frequented by Akalus and his Kheprian helpers…although knowing what Goronak had told him about the Kheprians not necessarily being willing helpers, even that seemed like a bad choice.

Why the hell hadn't he just talked them out of it? How had he managed to get himself into this mess?

From the corner of his eye, he saw the opening of the tent move. Since Lansha was away, he had to guess it was Mishta checking up on him. A quick glance that way confirmed it.

'You're still awake,' she said, stating the obvious.

'Yeah…I've got a few things on my mind,' he admitted.

'I imagine you have,' she said in a voice devoid of its usual harshness. 'Would you like me to get you some warm karrik milk? It usually helps me to relax.'

'No…no thanks. It's kind of you to offer, but I'll be fine,' he insisted, watching as she slipped fully inside and ensured the flaps of the doorway were completely overlapping. Odd that she was being so thorough…but maybe she just wanted to keep the cold evening air out. She loitered near the doorway as if she was considering simply leaving again – considering it, but not sure that was what she really wanted to do. He told himself to stop trying to figure this girl out and just wait for her to give him her customary warnings about staying in camp or she'd shoot him, and then she might give him some privacy to get his thoughts straight.

Except, she apparently didn't plan to leave since she was now unbuttoning her coat. She didn't say anything else, but she didn't depart either. Eventually, he felt compelled to make conversation, taking in her appearance properly for the first time since she'd entered.

The thick overcoat had fallen open to reveal the attire beneath it. She had on a skirt that skimmed her thighs about half way down along with her customary dusty boots, and a light tunic had replaced her usual somewhat utilitarian and coarser tunic, although, since it had been badly stained with blood he figured it was being laundered. So, this was her evening wear? The only other outfit she possessed? He'd not noticed her in a skirt before, and it didn't seem like the most practical clothing considering the chill that was settling in for the night. He inwardly cursed himself for wasting time on trying to figure her out again. And then he realised he was staring slack-jawed at her wonderfully toned pins, so averted his eyes back up to her face, trying to ignore the curves her semi-transparent top revealed on the way up.

There was no mistaking how pleased she looked at his hopelessly dumbstruck reaction. Jesus, why did he have to be such a man about these things?

'So, is there something you want or are you just here to keep an eye on me as usual?' he asked curtly, annoyed he'd fallen into whatever trap she was laying for him.

'Both eyes, actually,' she smiled, slipping her coat off all the way as she sauntered further into the shelter, tossing it to one side before sitting down opposite him on Lansha's empty bed. 'Besides, I thought you might be lonely with Lansha away for the night. I still haven't cleared my debt to you so I have a responsibility to…attend to your needs.'

He wondered if the thoughts her words conjured up were purely his own interpretation, or whether she'd intended them to have that effect. He couldn't help but notice her voice had taken on a more subtly velvet tone, and that one of the straps of her sleeveless tunic had slipped slightly, almost falling from her shoulder, revealing the smooth expanse of skin between it and her neck. It was a wonderfully feminine curve he'd not noticed before...unlike the other feminine curve its descent was beginning to reveal. He dragged his eyes back up to hers again, promising himself he was going to cut this short because he absolutely was not going to get pulled into a deeper mess than he was already in. 'I'm fine,' he assured her again. 'I spent six months alone in a cell in Phylacos; I think I can handle it.'

She didn't speak, just allowed her gaze to rove over his face, coming to rest on his mouth if he wasn't mistaken. 'I must have been terrible for you…no one to talk to…no one to comfort you.'

'I'm not really a big talker,' he replied with a shrug, hoping she would take the hint and leave before this got too awkward.

'So, you're a man of action?' She swung her legs up and lay on her side on the bed, propping her head up on her hand. The tunic slipped further off her shoulder, and he really tried not to let his eyes follow its path, but it was hard. She wriggled a little, making herself more comfortable and kicking off her calf-high boots as she stretched out.

'Are you…planning to sleep here?' he asked, trying desperately to make the question sound nothing more than a casual enquiry.

'How else can I guarantee your safety?' she said, her velvet voice slipping now into seductively husky. Her hand slipped down to her thigh and hitched her skirt up a little, revealing the knife she wore strapped there. 'If the Reliquiae try to take you again, I'll make sure they regret it.'

Sheppard's throat dried at the full expanse of smooth legs now stretched out in front of him. He licked his dry lips, before replying, 'I bet you will.'

'Can I ask you a question?'

A whole raft of possible questions he didn't want to answer popped into his head, but although the thoughts made him nervous, he just said, 'Sure…go ahead.'

'Earlier…up on the rise…why did you consider sacrificing yourself to the Reliquiae beam?'

He hadn't realised it had been that obvious, and in all honesty, the whole incident had slipped way down on his list of priorities since then, especially now he had a scantily clad woman in close proximity. 'Uh…well…it looked pretty hopeless and I thought…' He realised his honest answer was just going to make things even trickier, but what else could he say? He'd considered doing it to save her. But then he had a eureka moment. 'I thought I could get more enzyme…to fix me up. I knew you guys would come get me back.'

Mishta's seductive smouldering immediately turned to genuine concern. 'You're feeling unwell again?'

'It's nothing much…just vague symptoms really…' he replied, feeling horrible that he'd worried her.

She seemed to calm a little at the news it wasn't serious. She jumped up from her seat and repositioned herself next to him on his bed so close he could feel the heat from her body down his right side. He hadn't even realised how cold it was until then. She leaned in and laid her warm palm across his forehead while he tried hard not to look down her cleavage. 'You do feel a little cool.'

 _Not for long_ , he thought. 'Yeah, well, the temperature does drop pretty drastically around here…'

She touched her fingers to his neck, searching out his pulse. 'And that's a little fast.'

'Well, I'm heading back to Phylacos in the morning. It's kinda making me antsy.'

'Perhaps you should get under your blankets to warm up,' she suggested, reaching past him to pull back his sheet a short way. Oh, God she smelled good he realised as she leaned across him.

He wasn't exactly sure why, but he felt like lying down was a very bad idea right now. Usually, he didn't see this stuff coming, but Mishta wasn't exactly being subtle about her sudden and very unexpected 'friendliness'. He had the feeling she was leading toward "Let's combine body heat" territory and that would be a very bad idea. 'Uh, no…I'll be okay…I could probably just borrow something extra to wear from your brother.'

Using that as his excuse to move away from her, he slipped over to Lansha's bed to haul his clothes trunk out from under his camp bed, sorting through various items to find something that would warm his bones.

'Lansha always packs the heavier items at the bottom,' Mishta explained helpfully, kneeling beside him, all too close again. 'He doesn't feel the cold much…it'll be months before he uses them…if any of us are still here by then.'

She'd pulled a thick woollen tunic to the top as she spoke and now held it out toward him, her eyes huge and glistening with some kind of emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on...

'Are you afraid to go back to Phylacos?' she whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she spoke.

Anxiety…yeah, that was what he'd seen in those beautiful violet eyes of hers. He took the garment from her, just holding it as he gazed back at her, almost mesmerised by the colour and intensity of the gaze she had fixed him with.

'Yes,' he said softly, an honest answer he hadn't exactly planned to give. The look on her face had just pulled it right out of him. 'I'd be a fool not to be.'

'Then don't go.'

But it wasn't that simple. He had to go back…he'd promised Teyla he would get her home. He couldn't let her down. Her son needed her. 'I need to do it…no one else can.'

'If you go in there…' she paused, more tears welling up. 'You're taking a huge risk.'

He smiled, the cocky, crooked smile that he hadn't felt able to give for so many months now. 'I've been in worse scrapes.'

'I wish I could go in there with you.'

But why? Was she afraid he couldn't carry out the mission alone or was something else eating at her. He realised he was once again being pulled into trying to work her out. 'It wouldn't be safe –'

'I owe you my life.'

'You don't owe me anything.'

He got up and put some space between them again, uncomfortable with the waves of emotion radiating from her. He hated to see her hurting this way…hated more the fact he was the one causing her the pain. But why did she suddenly care so much? Because he'd saved her life and she felt duty-bound to repay the favour? Or because he was human, and no matter how much she supposedly wanted to deny that part of her, she felt the deep genetic connection to him that even thousands of years of extinction hadn't broken?

'Tomorrow, I'm going and you're not,' he told her, matter-of-fact. 'That's just the way it has to be. Now, if you don't mind leaving I think I should try to get some sleep.'

He sat down on the bed again, hoping that was the end of the conversation. Mishta, however, had other ideas.

'What's it like in Phylacos?'

He closed his eyes against the images that suddenly bombarded his mind. 'Mishta, please…I'm tired.'

She turned herself around from the clothes chest so she was kneeling in front of him, totally submissive in a stance completely at odds with her former aggressive posturing. 'Father wouldn't tell me what happened to him in there. I know he told Lansha, but he would never speak of it to me. All I know are the few things I overheard.'

'Perhaps that's because he felt it was something you shouldn't hear.'

'Why? Because I'm a _female_?'

A hint of her customary antagonism coloured the comment. He immediately felt the need to diffuse things.

'No, not because you're female. It's probably because he wanted no daughter of his to hear about the stuff those…monsters in Phylacos put her dad through.'

That seemed to confuse her. 'So, why did he tell Lansha?'

He shrugged. 'Everyone needs someone to talk to. Sometimes, when things really upset us, it helps to confide in someone about them. Maybe he didn't want to burden you or your mom with his problems. Men usually find it easier to talk to other men about things that are bothering them.'

She looked crestfallen at his explanation. 'So, you won't confide in me either?'

He sighed, trying to figure out what bones he could throw her to make her happy enough to leave him be. 'They harvested blood and tissue samples from me. It hurt…a lot. That's why I prefer not to think about it. And I really don't want to talk about it considering the fact I'm heading back in there tomorrow.'

Her eyes glowed in the lamplight as she looked up at him, and he felt a weird uneasy excitement in his guts, something he hadn't felt in years. Oh, no. No way. This couldn't be happening. He didn't have time for this.

'I saw many scars on your skin when I treated your injuries. Are they all from your time in Phylacos?'

The thought of her fingertips brushing against his skin as she'd applied the ointment suddenly brought his follicles to attention. He realised he was staring and averted his gaze, chewing his bottom lip before answering. 'No…not all of them. I've picked a few up over my years in service.'

'If you're afraid to go back, why don't you run away?'

He snorted out a laugh at that. 'Yeah…like you'd let that happen!'

She gazed up at him silently, her mouth moving a couple of times as if she was about to speak, but then thought better of it. Finally, she blurted out. 'I can get you around the perimeter.'

The smirk her comment raised slowly slipped as realisation dawned on him. 'You're serious?'

'Yes…but we have to wait until the rest of the camp is asleep…We can't risk being seen.'

Was this another trick? Had she come here dressed this way and behaving like she was interested to fool him into falling for her lies? Or was she beginning to feel what he himself was feeling…an irresistible and overwhelming draw that was screwing with his clarity of thought. 'But what about the prophecy? I thought you needed Akalus taken out?'

'We do, but –'

'But what?'

The way she looked at him was obviously meant to convey something, but he wanted to hear her say it. 'But…I don't want you to die,' she almost sobbed, her voice cracking as she fought to contain her emotions.

He laughed, covering his embarrassment at the overflowing emotions. 'Well, if it's any comfort to you, I don't wanna die either. That's not part of my plan.'

'The explosives are very powerful…if you set them off while you're inside Phylacos –'

'I've delivered explosive payloads before and lived to tell the tale,' he interrupted. 'I'm not giving up that easily.'

Without warning she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him hard enough to almost cut off his air supply.

He sat there, unsure how to respond, for what felt like an age but was probably only seconds, finally allowing himself to reciprocate. It felt like the right thing to do. She needed him to. And perhaps he needed this, too.

She nestled her face into his neck and he could tell she was crying. This couldn't all really be for him…they barely knew one another. He shifted her hair from over her face, only for her to burrow further in so he couldn't see her. 'Hey…what's this about?'

'I don't know,' she croaked. 'It's just…I…'

She stopped talking and he gave her some time to gather her thoughts. No point in pushing her until she was ready to speak again.

'For so long I've thought I knew exactly what life held for me…and then I found you.'

And that was all she said.

He held her as she continued to cling to him, unsure where to put his hands, whether to tighten the embrace, whether to take it further…did she even want that? Did he? What the hell was stopping him? But he knew the answer to that question. It was the thing he thought he might be afraid of most, more than failing Teyla, more than returning to Phylacos, more than the prospect of dying getting rid of Akalus. The only thing that really ever terrified him…he cared about her…more than he was willing to admit even to himself. How the hell had this snuck up on him?

He decided to just hold her, enveloping her in his arms and feeling the slight tremble ripple through her as he pulled her tighter against him. He didn't know where this was going, but he was willing to let it play out. 'You know I have to go, right?'

She nodded without lifting her head, then sniffed back tears, gradually getting a hold of her feelings and composing herself. She pulled back a little, held his gaze a second, then said, 'My father always told me any man would be lucky to get a kiss from me –'

She suddenly cupped his face and planted a kiss on his mouth.

He made absolutely no attempt to stop her.

The contact was light, and brief…a little too brief if he was honest…but he wasn't about to complain.

She pulled away again, but not too far…although that might have been because he still had his arms around her. 'For luck.'

He smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. 'I'm not sure that's quite what he meant, but I appreciate the gesture.'

And then there was this huge silence, thick and all-encompassing, so obvious that it felt like someone else was right there with them, urging them on, telling them this was the right thing to do. She slipped a hand up the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair and applying just enough pressure to the back of his head to get him moving toward her. Not that he resisted.

Unfortunately for them, Lansha chose that moment to return, his voice ending any romantic thoughts in an instant. 'Mishta! What are you doing? Get away from him.'

'I was…we were…'

Lansha dragged her clear, pushing her toward the entrance of the tent as she snatched up her shoes and coat. 'I'm ashamed of you. How could you do this?' he asked, catching hold of her wrist and dragging her to the doorway to cast her out into the night even as she struggled to pull on her boots.

'Lansha, stop!' Sheppard shouted, darting after them and trying to intercede. 'It wasn't exactly how it looked.'

Lansha froze, puzzled, releasing his grip on Mishta. 'What?'

Sheppard swallowed hard. This wasn't going to be the easiest thing to explain to the girl's brother. 'It was my fault,' he admitted.

'Go to your tent, Mishta. I'll speak with you later,' Lansha said, unable to even look her in the eye. She hesitated, worried and angry, but after a couple of seconds did as her brother asked her.

Once she was gone, Lansha cast his gaze up to Sheppard's. 'I think you and I need to talk, John.'

Sheppard nodded and backed up, holding up his hands in surrender. 'I'm sorry, Lansha. You've been nothing but kind to me. This was no way to repay you.'

'No way, indeed,' he agreed, though he just didn't seem as angry about all this as Sheppard had expected him to be.

'I let things get out of hand. I'm sorry,' he continued to apologise.

Lansha shook his head, as if he couldn't believe the thoughts whirling around in his mind. 'But why? I didn't think you felt that way about my sister.'

'I don't,' he said, only then realising how much worse that made the incident sound. 'I mean…I didn't think so either. She caught me off guard.'

'She made advances on you?'

This was getting messy, but he knew he couldn't lie. 'Well, yes, but I didn't spurn them...I don't think either of us realised how we felt until this…'

Lansha rubbed his face and sat down on his bed, looking dejected. 'You don't understand…if anyone else had walked in on the two of you, it could have been catastrophic.'

'It was just a kiss.'

'But Mishta is promised to Marmotah.'

'Yeah…and we've all seen what a great choice _he_ is,' Sheppard grumbled, a little alarmed by just how jealous the thought of that man having Mishta as a commitment partner made him.

'But the choice and the commitment are made. It cannot be reneged upon or she will be shunned.'

'And when she's tied to a piece of crap like that is it any won…der…' He stopped short. Suddenly, Mishta's behaviour took on a whole different meaning. He looked up to the ceiling and laughed out loud at his stupidity. 'Now the change of heart makes sense. She wanted an out from her commitment to Marmotah, and if she fooled around with me then only she would be shunned. No one else here has to pay because I'm already on my way to Phylacos.'

Lansha frowned. 'I don't think…'

'No? Maybe we should go ask her.'

Lansha caught him and stopped him from leaving. 'No, John. You go out there in this mood and people will know she…did something wrong. She wasn't thinking straight…she will not take the medicine I buy for her.'

'Medicine?' Sheppard felt the anger leave him instantly. 'Is she sick?'

'No…no, nothing like that,' Lansha was quick to deny. 'It's just that her mixture of genetics leaves her prone to…emotional outbursts.'

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Lansha, ' _Emotional outbursts_?' he echoed, waiting for a better explanation.

'Her human feelings. The medicine is to keep them in check…help her to think more clearly…but oftentimes she refuses to take it.'

Sheppard planted his hands on his hips and squared up to him. 'You want to drug her to keep her more…Birajan?'

'That's not what I said…'

'Funny, 'cos that's what I heard.'

'It was hard for us…being different. We had to find a way to fit in.'

'By sedating yourselves? Committing your sister to a relationship she doesn't want? You know what?' Sheppard charged, getting right up in his face. 'I'm beginning to understand exactly why she played me. I was her ticket out of here…one way or another.'

'We have to be calm…think clearly.'

'Thinking clearly isn't always what's best!' Sheppard shot back at him. 'For humans, those pesky emotions you're so keen to stamp out can be the difference between life and death. Mishta has instincts, and she acts on them. And believe me, if I had the choice to take one of you into Phylacos with me, it would be her. Our emotions are what make us humans feel alive. You take them away from her, she might as well be dead.'

He shook Lansha's hand from his arm and headed for the door again.

'Where are you going?'

'To sleep by the campfire. The atmosphere just got a little chilly in here for me.'

Lansha rushed out after him. 'They won't allow this. You cannot be alone.'

'Try and stop me,' Sheppard growled, rounding on him.

Lansha's eyes grew round and alarmed and he instantly backed off a pace or two. 'I…I will have to clear it with Goronak.'

'Don't bother…I'm not going far,' he told the male. Then he smirked at him, shaking his head. 'You know, if you had half the passion for life your sister has, you'd have taken me up on my challenge,' He strode away from him again toward the dying amber glow of the fire. 'Still think those drugs are a good idea?'

Lansha didn't reply….and neither did he run to Goronak. In the end, after a long period of just standing there and saying nothing, he headed back toward his shelter. At the doorway, he stopped and called out. 'I sourced a disrupter. It will be here by sunrise.'

'Whatever,' Sheppard grouched, snatching up some pillows that had been left near the cooking pots for the females to sit on and arranging them into a nest he could make a bed out of.

As he lay down and watched the last of the flames shrinking smaller and smaller, he couldn't get the thought of that kiss out of his head. It had been almost nothing, and yet it had awoken something that has been left sleeping inside him the moment he'd realised he'd lost any hope of a future with Teyla. He'd locked it up and ignored it until it had finally stopped gnawing at him and pining and put itself to bed. But now it was pacing again, prowling, desperate for satisfaction…for validation.

Had she really only played him? He swore under his breath as he grabbed a pillow, slapped it over his face and tried to shut out the world. He was trying to work her out again instead of just admitting defeat. He was never going to understand how that woman thought, and the sooner he stopped trying, the sooner that painful little pet of his could shuffle back into its dark corner and get back to sleep again.

oooOOOooo

Oolanae responded to a hail on the communication system at Agrastan during the early hours of the morning while her sisters slept to conserve their strength. Having fed at Phylacos a few days ago, she felt best placed to continue watch, even though it was time to hand over to another. Their need for rest was greater, she and the few sisters who had travelled with her that day would keep watch and protect their depleted numbers.

The face that came into view on her holographic display was Gavallan, the grey complexion and dark oval eyes making him instantly recognisable as a member of that race without any introductions. 'Why do you disturb us, Gavallan?'

'Excuse the interruption at such an unnatural hour, but I received word that you have been questioning many peoples living in the vicinity of the Lokorit Tavern about a Human/ Birajan hybrid male.'

'That is correct,' she replied, giving away nothing of the anticipation his words caused to swell within her. She didn't dare hope he was about to give her the information they needed.

'Then I have interesting news for you,' he announced, hip lipless mouth curving up into a smile that seemed to threaten to tear his papery-thin, almost translucent skin at its corners.

He was trying to draw out a reaction, but she refused to humour him and simply waited for him to continue in dignified silence.

'I have just struck a trade with the young man you are seeking.'

She tilted her head now and asked, 'Are you looking for congratulations on a trade well made?'

'Not at all,' he was quick to reply, as if sensing she was already tiring of his delivery. 'But knowing that you sought this hybrid, I have ensured that you will be able to find him. He had insisted on collecting the item he purchased from me on neutral territory, so we will not know where he lives. It's a common enough agreement since I did not have the item in stock when he requested it.'

'I grow bored of these superfluous details – get to the point!' Oolanae demanded, having had enough of this dull creature's smugness.

'I have the device with me now, and I have added a tracker to it,' he told her, her interest now suitably piqued. 'I would like to strike a good trade over the transmission codes to track it.'

Now it came to the crux. The Gavallan had something he wanted, and he thought he could name his price. She already had a good idea what his demand would be, but she dutifully asked the question. 'What will you want in return for these codes, Gavallan?'

'Enzyme,' he stated flatly, holding up three glass vials. 'Not much as you can see, just enough for us to work on synthesising its make-up.'

'And what will you do with this synthetic enzyme?' she asked.

'It is for personal use only, I promise you. Who wouldn't want to live forever?'

Though she didn't doubt for a second that he planned to use it himself if he was successful, she doubted a mercenary such as him wouldn't also market it to other people. He could name his price, leaving the Reliquiae facing multiple opponents of potentially equal strength. It was an unreasonable demand, and one she had no intention to meet.

'I apologise that you have wasted your time when you could have been sleeping. Good night, Gavallan.'

'Wait…do not dismiss trade so readily. We have not heard from the Reliquiae in many years. Finding the hybrid must be important to you if you have finally broken your silence.'

'Your price was too high. We will find him ourselves,' she assured him, about to end the communication.

'Your numbers are so low now that at some point someone will take what you are not willing to share by force. Why not accept my offer and benefit from what is inevitably going to be taken from you?'

Oolanae felt every muscle and sinew in her body tighten. This creature…this low-life hardly fit to speak her species' name was issuing threats? That was not something she was simply willing to ignore.

'You are right, Gavallan,' she growled, allowing the message to continue. 'I believe there is a trade to be made between us.'

The Gavallan's smile threatened to split his face in half. 'I knew you would see sense.'

But Oolanae did not smile. She simply pinned the alien with a fierce glare that made his smile first falter and then fade completely away. 'These are my terms. You will give me the transmission frequency of the tracker you have attached to the device you sold to the hybrid, and my sisters and I will not hunt you down and devour every morsel of your worthless body, beginning with your venomous tongue, while you are still alive.'

The Gavallan's grey skin turned several shades paler. 'You can't threaten me that way. You don't know where to find me.'

'I have already locked onto the location from where you are sending this communication,' she lied, knowing the Gavallan would have no way of knowing whether she was bluffing. 'And although I am sure you will flee like the coward you are, you will not be able to run fast enough to evade us once we set our minds to finding you.'

The Gavallan fell silent, but appeared to be trembling. She had shaken him. Even though their numbers had dwindled, the reputation of the Reliquiae still struck fear into the hearts of all males in this galaxy. His blood would give very little benefit, but he didn't know the effort of obtaining it from him was hardly worth his murder.

Eventually, he replied, 'Your terms are acceptable. The transmitter will be activated as soon as they begin to charge the device. I will send through the data you need to trace it now.'

True to his word, the Gavallan sent through a data burst containing the frequency she needed.

Now it was Oolanae turn to smile, her sharp teeth flashing as she downloaded the information. 'Thank you, Gavallan. The Reliquiae are grateful for your help with this matter…I'm sure I need not warn you of the consequences should you renege on our deal?'

'You will have your hybrid's location by tomorrow. You have my promise on that.'

Oolanae ended the conversation there, satisfied that the Gavallan was now so terrified that he wouldn't dare defy her.

She would let her sisters rest for now, but tomorrow they would set out to find the human and bring him back to the fold…and feast on the hybrid who harboured him.

* * *

 **A/N: Soooo, things are getting messier and messier. So much trouble ahead! Thanks to all those of you sticking with the story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Exhausted and baffled, Rodney lay his head down on his folded arms and drifted off to sleep. Not that his peace lasted for long. A thump on his shoulder woke him up with a start and he knew his Kheprian guard had caught him sleeping on the job. But how did they expect him to figure out such a complex conundrum as programming the time dilation drive without any rest?

'All right, all right. I'm on it!' he complained, although the split-second break had done nothing to clear his head.

'We need to talk, Dr McKay,' a voice said, and it was only then he realised there had been a changeover of watch and the three-armed bug was back from wherever he'd dashed off to earlier.

He peered over his shoulder, giving him a shrewd looking over. 'Okay…well, since I'm barely coherent due to sleep deprivation why don't you start and I'll join in when I can form a sentence?'

The huge bug man seemed suddenly reticent in the face of McKay's apathy, and looked about himself as if checking he was alone.

This was new and unusual behaviour for the creature, and suddenly McKay felt it was important to sit up and listen.

'Sorry, I…I'm just grouchy. Go ahead…please.'

The Kheprian took a deep breath of whatever combination of gases filled his lungs and announced. 'I need your help to free my people from Akalus.'

Rodney stared and then gave an exaggerated blink before beginning to giggle near hysterically. He turned away and began working on the time drive again. 'Okay, now I know I'm delirious and hearing things, because there is no way you just said what I think you said.'

He tried to make sense of all the data in front of him, but with his brain rapidly turning to mush it was hard to fathom the intricacies necessary to iron out the destination wrinkles. After a few more minutes of willing his stinging eyes to pull the data into sharper focus he realised the guard was still looming huge right at his shoulder.

He looked back at him again.

'You heard me correctly, Dr McKay. Akalus is holding my people without our consent.'

That was the second time this guy had brought up Akalus without using his preferred form of address. Everyone around here called him master. McKay had never heard him called simply by his name before. He tried to get a reading off the bug man, but since that wasn't his strong point even with beings whose faces weren't obscured by masks, he honestly couldn't figure out whether or not this was a scam.

'Please…I don't…is this some kind of trick, because I'm not looking for any trouble?' he asked, too tired to even try to figure it out.

'No, it is not a trick,' the Kheprian assured him. 'I truly need your help.'

'You're not willingly working for Akalus?'

The huge creature shook his head almost sorrowfully. Rodney got a little creeped out at that. In the whole six months he'd been here, it had never occurred to him that the Kheprians might be captives, too. They seemed so…good at being guards.

'So, why'd you stay here? You guys look big and –' he stopped himself short of saying ugly, '—tough enough to break out of here.'

The Kheprian did something else Rodney really wasn't expecting. He sat down. McKay had never before seen one of them relax to anything other than, 'work or I'll beat you senseless' mode. This was starting to weird him out. 'I am the only one who is…awake,' the alien explained.

Rodney frowned. 'Awake. What do you mean?'

The Kheprian shrugged its broad shoulders in an almost human gesture. 'I came here some time ago as a guest, the next thing I remember is being conscious of being beaten with my own arm.'

Rodney hissed through his clenched teeth, trying not to stare at the place that limb would once have been. 'Ouch!'

'Yes…quite,' the bug murmured. 'The human was horribly punished, and I had no recollection of how we had come to be in that situation, only that my fellow Kheprians seemed to be instinctively suppressing human prisoners as if it had always been their duty. I had no idea how or when it came to be.'

Rodney turned himself fully around to face the Kheprian, his alertness returning as he took in what he'd said.

'I'm guessing you think your men are being controlled by Akalus somehow?'

'Shortly before I lost awareness, Akalus offered to adjust our translators so we could understand local dialects. After that, my next memory is of John Sheppard attacking me.'

Now this creature had his full attention. 'John Sheppard was the one hitting you with your arm? Is he still here? Is he still alive?'

'Do you know the human?' the Kheprian enquired.

'Yes…yes…he's my friend. I haven't seen him since we got here. I thought he was dead.'

'He is not here, but he is very much alive. He is the reason Akalus wants you to fix our ship. He needs us to travel back and find Sheppard before he is taken from the Reliquiae.'

Rodney's brain was swimming with all this new information, fatigue slowing his usually frenetically fast processing speed so he struggled to make sense of it. 'Who are the Reliquiae and why did they have Sheppard?'

'Dr McKay…please…I understand that you want more information about your friend, but I need your help and any delay could be disastrous,' the Kheprian pleaded.

Yes, pleaded. Yet another first for the species from what McKay had seen thus far.

'I'm sorry,' he found the innate Canadian in himself muttering. 'Go on.'

'I believe Akalus programmed something into our translators…some subliminal messaging that suppresses our free thought and makes us nothing better than mindless minions. But I understand nothing of such things. I have no idea how to find the programming, and no way of recognising it if I were fortunate enough to stumble across it.'

'And you want me to look for it.' McKay finished for him.

'If you could help free my men…I will order them to free the humans here,' the Kheprian bartered.

'And find Sheppard?'

'And also find John Sheppard,' he agreed.

'Well,' Rodney declared, leaning forward to pat the Kheprian's shoulder, then resisting the urge to wipe his hand clean on his trousers. 'You're in luck. Because I happen to have found Akalus' private files. If the programming is anywhere, it'll be hidden in there.' He snatched up his tablet, detaching it from the time dilation drive and hacking into Akalus' files again. 'Since we're on the same side…do you have a name?'

'I am Commander Hakkar of the Kheprian Elite Exploration Unit,' the Kheprian said proudly, lifting his head high.

Rodney lifted his eyes from his screen and smirked. 'That's quite a mouthful. What should I actually call you?'

'To friends I am Hakkar, and you are now my friend.'

Rodney gave him a lopsided smile. 'Hakkar it is,' he said cheerfully, getting back to his word. 'And I'm Rodney.'

What had started like a bad day had taken a sharp turn for the better. Sheppard was still alive, he'd found a potential ally in the Kheprian commander, and if he could also fix the time dilation drive they had a way of getting home. At long last things were looking up.

oooOOOooo

Tamrak entered the laboratory, his eyes immediately settling on the beautiful human female his master had sent him to seek out.

Now that he knew his way around the laboratory, getting to her and smuggling her out would be easier than he'd hoped. All he needed was the opportunity to work unseen to remove her from that awful facility. He'd never seen a supposed place of medicine in such poor condition. A little over a year ago, he'd had the misfortune to fall ill, and, although he worked for the wealthiest Rammarants in the land, they had insisted he be treated in the cheapest laboratory. Yet, even that had put this place to shame. Everything around him looked rusted and broken, not to mention distinctly unsanitary. It was hard to imagine this pit could actually help make people well.

Seeing another human in there he approached her table, noting that she slept for the moment. Her injuries looked severe, that much was obvious from the amount of blood now staining her back and the bed beneath her. He tried not to react in a way that would suggest he was seeing all this for the first time as he lifted the hurriedly applied dressings on her shoulders to examine the extent of her wounds. The one on her right shoulder seemed reasonably small and clean, but the one to her left was far larger and angrier in appearance. This human must have suffered greatly on receiving such terrible injuries; it turned his stomach to even think of her torment.

Tamrak had heard rumours of the torture humans who resisted their captors endured; tales of being mechanically pinned to the floor as a form of restraint and to break their spirits, but he'd always hoped they were untrue. This woman's wounds said something quite different. How could anyone be so cruel? Yet, here was undeniable evidence of the act, right before his eyes. He desperately wanted to get out of this place before he was permanently tainted by such brutality.

The woman stirred, her eyes straining open and meeting his. She immediately tried to struggle against him, so he held her still until the others helped him to restrain her.

'This one is strong – good stock,' one of his colleagues said, pulling her arms up to clip them in manacles at the top of the bed. It obviously caused considerable pain to have her arms moved in that way, but they paid no heed to her screams. They meant to stop her lashing out, no matter how much it pained her.

Being a good soul, Tamrak found her agony hard to tolerate. Killing and hurting other living beings didn't come naturally to him, but the incentive of knowing he would die if he didn't help his master acquire the other human girl drove him to acts he had never imagined himself indulging in.

This human used language he'd never heard a female use before; it was shocking, but understandable in the circumstances. Pain and fear were intermingling to make her behave in this way, and these Birajan scientists were doing little to ease either for her. He didn't think he'd ever heard anyone scream and curse so loudly.

Tamrak shifted his position, backing away from that bedside to the table where his master's target lay. Unable to resist, he lifted a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers, the rich colour glowing in the harsh lighting of that underground laboratory. He felt the draw of her, the urge to touch her, the one his master had talked of. What was it about humans that affected them so? Obviously feeling the slight tug, Teyla woke and turned her fierce gaze on him.

'Do not touch me that way or I will make you regret it.'

Tamrak snatched his hand back as if bitten, certain of the sincerity of her threat even if she was unable to carry it out at that moment. She had a sense of strength about her, even though she was slight of build. There was something of the warrior in her demeanour that told him it was a threat she could easily carry out if unrestrained. Tamrak had never fought anyone, and he didn't wish to start now.

One of his colleagues called over to him. 'Don't be getting ideas there, Sholan. Akalus doesn't let us handle the stock.'

They all laughed, aggravating the woman more. She strained against her restraints, paying no heed to the pain it caused her. 'I swear, if I ever get free of these bonds you _will_ regret it!'

They all paused and looked at each other, then laughed again. Tamrak joined in with the joke, but inside he pitied her. He could see recent scars on her otherwise flawless skin. Was it not bad enough that these scientists had butchered her with amateur surgery? Did they have to mock her, too? At least his master would treat her with some respect if she pleased him.

Suddenly, his mission there didn't seem quite so abhorrent. Akalus deserved whatever he got.

One of the other Birajans ripped off Mehra's dressings and daubed more ointment on her wounds with little regard for the pain he caused, sending her into another frenzy of expletives.

The Birajans merely laughed again, quipping, 'Hush now, or we'll take your tongue as a sample.'

Tamrak's stomach twisted up with anger on her behalf. She was utterly at the mercy of Akalus' staff, and they took every opportunity to laugh at her.

But he could only remove one human, so no matter how much he pitied the dark-haired one, she would have to remain.

Somehow, he would have to find a way to make peace with that fact if he wanted to return to the only home he knew.

oooOOOooo

Lansha woke Sheppard with a gentle nudge the next morning, offering him a cup of something warm and sweet that Sheppard had already found tasted remarkably close to tea. He sat up, feeling the inevitable aches of having slept on the ground, and took the offered drink. 'Thanks.'

The hybrid looked somewhat relieved by his reaction. 'You're welcome.'

As he sipped at it, the previous evening's events came drifting back to him, making him cringe. He'd been an idiot to fall for Mishta's tricks, and an angry, hurt jackass in the way he'd dealt with Lansha. It wasn't his place to criticise their ways. He really had to stop thinking he could do that.

'How are you feeling this morning?' Lansha asked, keeping the conversation going.

Sheppard set his cup down to allow the drink to cool for a while, noticing a number of females were already up and preparing breakfast. They thoughtfully hadn't woken him while they'd begun their work, letting him keep the pillows they usually sat on as his badly assembled mattress. 'Tired...nervous,' he admitted. From the corner of his eye he noticed someone emerging from the shelter he knew belonged to Mishta. He deliberately didn't look her way.

Lansha nodded in empathy. 'I wish you had felt able to stay in the shelter where you could have been more comfortable. Still, you may not have slept any better considering the task ahead of you.'

'Yeah, there's that…and other things,' Sheppard muttered to himself, scratching at his ruffled hair with a yawn.

Lansha smiled. 'You mean Mishta,' he said, his voice lower now.

'I still can't believe how stupid I was to fall for her act,' he grumbled, rubbing the last blur of sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands. 'Your sister's a real piece of work.'

He felt a sympathetic pat on his back. 'I've explained how risky what she did was, and she's voluntarily taken her medication to keep her behaviour in check this morning. She understands what she did last night was wrong. Everything is as it should be now. You have nothing to worry about.'

Giving his companion a doubtful look, Sheppard picked up his drink again and began to sip at it.

'Will you join us for breakfast?' a voice to his left asked. It was one of the older females calling them to eat.

Lansha looked to Sheppard for his reply. He shook his head. 'I'm not sure I could keep anything down.'

'We'll be along shortly,' Lansha replied, waiting for her to leave them alone again. Then, he gave Sheppard's shoulder a squeeze. 'You really should try to eat a good meal. You need to keep up your strength. Who knows when you'll next eat again?'

'Or _if_ I'll eat again,' he quipped, giving his companion a grim smile.

'Try to stay positive, John. Today could be the end of all this horror. Tomorrow, you might be our hero, not our undoing.'

'Or I might be dead,' he pointed out

Lansha sighed and dropped his gaze to his boots. 'Are you afraid of dying?'

'No…just afraid of dying painfully.'

'A natural fear.'

'Yeah, trouble is, there's a damn good chance of it happening today,' Sheppard mused. He was something of an explosives expert, but taking down a building while still inside it and not dying…that was a stretch even for his talents.

Lansha smiled and stood to pull on his coat. 'I have a strong feeling you'll survive this, John. A very strong feeling.'

Sheppard forced on a crooked smile. 'Yeah…maybe – but I'll probably be minus a limb or two…'

Lansha tipped his face toward the now rising primary sun. The sky was clear, and the air was already warming to a formidable temperature. 'Look at the wonder of this morning, John. This is a sign – a sign of your sure success.'

Sheppard snorted out a short laugh. 'Ever the optimist, eh, Lansha?'

'Always. Now, come and take breakfast with me. Then, we'll meet with Goronak and finalise our plans.'

Sheppard reluctantly and followed him over to one of the log seats they'd hastily arranged around the campfire yesterday, from where a variety of delicious smells bombarded him. The females fussed around him, bringing him huge bowls with samples of everything there was on offer, filling the plate they had insisted he take from them. Their interest in him felt different now to how it had felt a few days ago. They had looked at him then in wide-eyed innocent wonder, the first human they had seen in many years. Now, they regarded him with a different kind of awe…with a recognition of the risk he represented and of the fact their futures lay in his hands. It weighed heavily on him. He'd thought he felt guilty for not having reunited Teyla with her son yet, but the thought that he could end the lives of these people, as well as every other life force in the universe…that one literally left him breathless.

His throat tight and chest aching, he thanked them for their kindness, and did his best to eat his meal. As he bit into a warm bread cake, he sensed someone other than the gaggle of females by the campfire watching him. Mishta now hovered just on the other side of the campfire, obviously keen to approach him, but unsure of how welcome her presence would be.

He immediately looked away, guilty about shutting her down like that, but feeling unable to talk to her at this point in time without saying something he might regret or that might get her into trouble. Without looking again, he sensed her move away to collect her share of the food, then she disappeared from sight.

Someone sat down on the floor beside him. 'Did you sleep well, Human?'

It was Juroah.

'Not really,' Sheppard mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

'Neither did I. Today is going to be a memorable day, is it not?'

'I guess so.'

'You're a brave man going back into that place, Human. You have my respect,' the old man grinned.

Sheppard swallowed hard and quirked an eyebrow. 'Great. I'll bear that in mind when Phylacos starts exploding around my ears.'

Juroah laughed and clapped him on the back. 'You're a good soul. I hope you make it out.'

Sensing eyes on him again, he looked behind him and saw Mishta looking his way from the nest of pillows he'd made the night before. He struggled to swallow down another lump of bread. 'I doubt everyone shares your sentiment.'

Juroah followed his eye line in time to see his charge turning away from them. 'Oh, I think you'll find that one especially does,' he smiled, tucking into his own breakfast.

Sheppard blinked back at him, trying to figure out what that meant, but then just got on with disturbing his meal, picking and prodding it around the plate. The bread had filled his stomach, so he had no need for anything more.

'Are you worried about what happened last night?' Juroah whispered to him.

Sheppard's eyes bugged. If Juroah knew about that, who else did? 'Uh…what?'

Juroah continued, undeterred by his confused response. 'I can assure you, Mishta feels entirely responsible for the indiscretion. She realises she may have assumed rather too much about how welcome her advances would be and she is _very_ sorry.'

That didn't sound like the admission of someone using him to escape a bad situation. Either she was an exceptional actress, or he'd made a mistake about her motives. 'Actually…I'm not sure that makes me feel any better,' he winced, wishing Juroah hadn't told him and he could have stayed angry at her instead. In a short while he would be out of here, and now he would be carrying her guilt along with him.

'All I can say is she must like you, Human. Mishta never accepts responsibility for anything.'

She was looking over at him again, a weird mixture of fear and annoyance on her face.

Sheppard sighed, setting his bowl aside. 'I guess I should talk to her and clear the air before I go.'

'I think she would appreciate that,' Juroah nodded with a warm smile.

Although she watched him as he crossed the clearing, when she realised he was heading her way she looked suddenly anxious and embarrassed, averting her gaze down to her as yet uneaten breakfast.

'Mishta, could I have a word with you?' Instantly, everyone's eyes were on them. Sheppard looked around at them, before adding, 'In private?'

She nibbled anxiously at her bottom lip a moment, then nodded and led the way back to her tent. That was rather more private than he'd intended, but he didn't make an issue of it. As he followed her in, she stood before him, head lowered in shame and unable to meet his eyes.

This was horrible. He couldn't let her go on feeling this bad. 'Mishta –'

She held up a hand to stop him. 'No. Please, let me speak first.'

He closed his mouth and gestured for her to continue.

'I behaved abhorrently last night. I'm ashamed of how I treated you, Human.'

He stayed silent, knowing she would eventually look at him to see his response. When she did, he raised his eyebrows. 'Human? That's not what you called me last night.'

'I allowed my emotions to get the better of me,' she almost whispered, looking back down at the ground. 'Goronak still says we should refrain from using your name in case others outside of our group find out who you are.'

He smiled grimly. 'Okay…but we're in private here. Surely you can say it when we're alone?'

She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking up to his momentarily to ascertain that he was still listening before she continued. 'I suppose so…John.' Then her face contorted, and for a moment he thought she was about to cry. His heart ached and he wondered whether he should offer her a hug in consolation, but after last night he figured that would be a mistake. He folded his arms as she spoke again, making sure he didn't give in to the temptation to touch her. 'I shouldn't have put both of us in such a vulnerable position.'

This was awkward, and after what Lansha had told him last night, it needed to be discouraged. 'Mishta –'

'My brother has made me see the error of my behaviour. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you when I am already in your debt.'

'Mishta –'

'If you wish to report my behaviour to Goronak, I'll understand.'

'Mishta, will you shut up for a minute and listen?'

She looked surprised, alarmed in fact, but did as he asked.

'Thank you. I was actually trying to tell you that I wanted to apologise to you.'

Mishta blinked at him, hardly able to comprehend what she was hearing. ' _You_ want to apologise to _me_?'

'Yes. I should have stopped things last night, but I was enjoying the attention. I knew you weren't happy about your commitment to Marmotah, but that didn't give me the right to take advantage of your unhappiness.'

Her shoulders drooped a little at his words, but he knew he was doing the right thing. If he brought it all out into the open she wouldn't have to regret her actions he didn't make it back from Phylacos.

'I guess I've been mistreated for so long I got swept along by the first sign of affection I was shown.'

She gave a brisk nod, her eyes moist with tears as she choked out, 'I understand.'

'Human men…we do that kind of thing without thinking or feeling. We see something we like, and we're drawn to it. It's just…physical for us. And I should have realised that it might be…confusing for you.'

'I'm not confused…I completely understand,' she told him, forcing on a smile now and managing to hold his gaze more confidently. 'In all honesty, I was driven by my human instincts too. I'm glad Lansha was able to stop things before they went too far.'

She was fronting it out…lying to cover her hurt at his denial of how he felt. He knew because he'd done the same thing enough times in his life to know the signs. He was happy to let her think he was convinced because it made things easier for both of them.

'Oh,' she said suddenly, dipping into her coat pocket. 'I have something for you.' She held out her hand to him. In her palm, she held a syringe of a slightly yellow tinged liquid. 'It's enzyme, from the Wraith in the crashed ship back near our old camp. I thought you could use it. I didn't want you going into Phylacos at anything below full health.'

Her gesture left him speechless. It was exactly what he needed and he couldn't believe she'd taken the risk of getting it for him.

'You…you went back there alone?'

She shook her head. 'No…Juroah helped. He thought it was a good idea…that it would give you the best chance of seeing the plan through…and escaping.'

He took the syringe from her, left momentarily speechless by the selfless gesture. 'You took a huge risk,' he finally managed to say. 'Both of you.'

She shrugged as if it was nothing. 'I am in debt to you. If I can help you in any way, I have to.'

But it wasn't about that, he realised, taking in the smile and her flushed complexion. His gratitude pleased her far more than it should have, and he knew right there and then that she hadn't been playing him, and her casual responses today were all an act. She hadn't been using him. They really had connected, and they couldn't and shouldn't have.

'You should probably take that now…give it time to work and for your body to find its equilibrium again.'

He nodded, then held it back out to her. 'You wanna help?'

Again, he saw her face light up at the request. 'Of course.'

She steered him gently toward her bed, where he slipped off his BDU shirt so she could access his arm. She knelt before him, almost replicating their position from the evening before, something he was painfully aware of as she pushed the point of the syringe device through his skin and into a vein inside his left elbow joint. She lifted her large, round eyes to look at him. 'Are you ready?'

'Yeah…but don't give me it all at once.'

'Then how much?'

He could see he'd scared her. Clearly, she had no idea how bad too much enzyme could be for a human. 'Give me a tenth, then I'll tell you if I need more.'

She nodded, set the control on the syringe to give a tenth of the cylinder, then pressed the trigger.

The enzyme entered his body in a cold burst, taking a few more seconds to slide around to his heart and then he instantly felt the surge. He sucked in a sharp breath, blowing it out as a tremble shook through him then settled again.

'Are you all right?'

Mishta's anxiety had ramped with his reaction. He could see it in the pallor of her face. He blinked a few times, steadying his breath. 'Yeah, I'm good,' he assured her. 'Hit me again.'

After a moment or two frowning at him, she seemed to unravel the meaning of his words, depressing the trigger again and sending another measured dose into his system.

His vision sharpened as if he'd been looking through sheers at a window and someone had drawn them back. Every colour, every detail snapped into hyper-focus. Sounds bombarded his ears, his blood thundering around his body with the increased pace of his heart, distant voices out at the campfire, Mishta's, ragged breaths as she gripped his leg and asked once again if he was okay.

Was he ever? He didn't remember ever feeling this alive. He heard himself say 'Again' without really thinking about it.

Time shifted as if in an instant and the effects of the third dose were upon him with seemingly no delay. Oh, hell. This felt good. He could feel his strength returning and then some. He felt like Superman.

'More?'

The question almost didn't penetrate the thousands of thoughts being processed almost simultaneously, but it did, and although he wanted to say yes, he forced himself to pause and really take measure of himself and what he was feeling. This was amazing, but in no way was it good. He couldn't take any more and still function.

'No,' he croaked, allowing himself to fall back on her bed and let the room spin until he felt sick.

He didn't dare move, but he felt sure it would pass. The random feelings began to slowly form more cognitive thought patterns. Goronak's explanation of what had led to the birth of the Reliquiae was the one thing that chose to come to the forefront. How the actions of the scientists and medical teams on Atlantis had robbed them of their Wraith feeding habits and left them mere shadows of their former selves. That had led to the death of mankind…and now he was expected to go to Phylacos and kill yet more of them. He had to make sure as many of them as possible survived. He owed humanity that much.

As his senses began to function more effectively, Lansha poked his head into the tent. 'Is everything all right?' he asked, before rushing to the beside. 'John! What happened?'

Sheppard smiled up at him. 'Everything's fine. Mishta just gave me a little something to help me out.'

'What?'

'Reliquiae enzyme,' she explained. 'He needs to be fit to carry out his role.'

At first Lansha looked pleased at his sister's resourcefulness as he helped Sheppard sit up, then he frowned. 'And where did you get it?'

She tilted her head and gave him a "Where do you think?" kind of look.

'You went back to the old camp?' he gasped. 'Have you any concept of just how dangerous that was?'

'No…the thought never crossed my mind,' she grunted, then she jutted her jaw and continued, 'Juroah and I decided it was worth the risk since we need every advantage possible for this plan to work.'

'Juroah?' Lansha looked aghast. 'He agreed to this?'

'Kids! Kids!' Sheppard interrupted, holding up a hand as he got to his feet. 'It was risky, but everyone survived. So how about we take it apart another time? I think we should be focused on the next stage of the plan right now.'

Lansha took a deep breath and nodded, though he still seemed upset. 'You're right. John. We collected the disrupter this morning. So, if you're both finished with your breakfasts, Goronak is keen to begin the briefing.'

Feeling strong and a lot less nervous, Sheppard gave him his best smile and clapped a hand down on his shoulder. 'Okay. Let's do this.'

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah...let's do this. What could possibly go wrong? ;) Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Ronon remained hidden in the corridor outside the laboratory for so long he had no hope of monitoring the passage of time. Birajans had come and gone, as had a handful of the Kheprian guards, but no one seemed to have missed the Birajan he'd killed and now silence ruled. It was time to make his move.

He dared to step out of his hiding place and peer through the small square window in the upper half of the door to the room he'd seen Teyla in. She appeared to be resting comfortably, and then, to the left of the room, he spotted another woman lying face down on an examination table. They both appeared to be asleep, and there was no one else with them. So, he pulled out the key card and slipped inside.

First, he checked Teyla. She was breathing regularly and her pulse felt strong, not that he considered himself a medical expert of any kind. But other than being a little too thin Teyla looked healthy enough, just unconscious.

Next, he slipped over to the other woman. The table she lay face down on, and the floor around it, were a mess; there was dried blood on just about everything. They'd cut away her clothes and left her exposed from the waist up, affording her no dignity in her pain while she lay restrained at the wrists and ankles.

Ronon leaned in close to listen for the woman's breathing. Though quiet, it sounded fine. He realised the face looked familiar. He'd seen this woman before, but he didn't think it was down in the mines. He got the feeling he knew her from Atlantis, and now he looked more closely at her, the clothing she still wore definitely looked like the BDUs the military wore. His heart sank. He'd come in here to rescue Teyla, but he knew his conscience wouldn't allow him to leave without this woman either. Mehra, that was her name. Sergeant Mehra. She'd been on a mission with Sheppard and Beckett once and helped kill some of Michael's hybrids. She might have been useful if she wasn't so badly injured, but whatever, he wasn't about to leave her behind no matter what condition she was in.

He was about to straighten up when Mehra's eyes snapped open.

''Bout time you showed up?' she quipped, taking him by surprise.

Ronon arched an eyebrow, then gave her a broad grin. 'Sorry. Got held up.'

'Yeah, well, better late than never. I was beginning to think you'd been eaten.' She screwed her eyes shut and groaned. Ronon couldn't help but wince in sympathy. Though she'd received treatment, there were two pretty big scars on her shoulder blades. That had to hurt.

'What happened?'

'Got into a bit of trouble with the head honcho,' she explained. 'Apparently Akalus doesn't like attitude, and as luck would have it, I've got an excess of it.'

'Kheprians don't like it much either,' he told her, looking around the room for something she could cover up with.

'Is Teyla okay?' Mehra asked, managing to turn her head enough to look over at her still unconscious form. 'They knocked her out with something earlier and I haven't heard a peep out of her since.'

She hadn't moved at all since he'd entered, either. Ronon had figured she'd been sedated and Mehra's report confirmed his assessment. Which meant they were going to have to carry her out of there. He didn't relish the thought. Teyla was tiny, but even so he wasn't sure how long his strength could hold out. 'Hope so,' he murmured, opening up some metal doors along one wall, and finding numerous items of medical wear, including what passed for lab coats and medical tunics. He snatched one out he estimated would fit Mehra and headed back to her table. 'Think you can stand?' he asked, beginning to unstrap the restraints at her wrists.

'If it means getting out of this pit, you bet.'

Before Ronon could begin to loosen off any of the straps binding Mehra to the bed, the door opened. Having nowhere else to go, he threw himself under the bed, scrunching up into the tiny space and hoping whoever it was didn't think to move the sheeting aside. It didn't reach right down to the floor, but was good enough to conceal him from prying eyes.

He recognised the legs of a Birajan enter the room which was better than the alternative of a Kheprian. And thankfully whoever it was appeared to be alone. The figure crossed over to the bed where Mehra lay still cuffed.

'Come back for another grope, have you?' he heard her growl. The thought that might have happened set Ronon on a slow simmer. He'd make the little creep pay if he tried anything else.

The alien said something in reply, but there was no way of knowing what exactly. But without the benefit of being able to see him, Ronon became more aware of the pitch of the words. It sounded like he was defending himself…maybe even offended by Mehra's accusation. A Birajan with a heart and a conscience? He seriously doubted that.

Curious, Ronon lifted the sheet a fraction so she could see the Birajan who had joined them. Oddly, he looked somewhat friendly, maybe even concerned. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. He'd had a few encounters with the Birajans up here himself, and they'd on the whole displayed a complete disregard for humans other than patching them up so they could return to whichever part of Phylacos they'd come from.

'You'd better stay away from me,' Mehra threatened.

The Birajan again sounded out some kind of protest, perhaps an explanation. It was hard to tell. But he definitely didn't sound annoyed or amused. He was giving off a very different vibe from the others.

It was a relief when their unexpected visitor shuffled off in Teyla's direction. At least it gave Ronon a chance to climb out of his hiding place unnoticed so he could prepare to make a move on him.

The Birajan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box-like item, turning it over in his hands as if trying to figure out how to use it. Ronon didn't have a clue what the box was, but he knew he wasn't giving the Birajan the chance to use it on his friend. He leapt for the little creature, grabbed his shoulder to spin him around, then punched him so hard his feet lifted off the floor with the force of the contact. When he landed he was out cold; Ronon nudged him with his boot just to be sure and got no reaction. He figured that was enough for now. If he moved again he might have to finish the job.

'Nice hook. Time to get out of here before someone else shows up,' Mehra called over to him. He couldn't agree more.

Ronon darted back to Mehra and began to uncuff her, beginning with her wrists. He picked up the lab coat from the floor where he'd dropped it and set it beside her on the table while he got busy unbuckling the straps at her ankles. It was clear as soon as she tried to move her arms that getting up wasn't going to be easy. He could hear her pain from the change in her breathing, but she had guts and pushed through it, holding the coat up in front of her as Ronon helped her into a sitting position.

'Thanks for the help, but this isn't a peep show,' she joked. 'Turn around, tough guy.'

He gave her some privacy to dress, heading over to Teyla while she made herself decent.

There was some type of rudimentary drip feeding into her left arm, sending who knew what junk into her system. Ronon suspected it was whatever they were using to keep Teyla sedated. He tugged it out of the cannula and began unstrapping the restraints holding her. He lifted her from the table and felt the dead weight of her hang heavy in his arms. This wasn't going to be easy, but he wasn't going to let it stop him trying.

Unfortunately, by the time he'd carried her over to the door she was already slipping from his grip. Lack of nutrition and rest had taken their toll.

'Let me help,' Mehra insisted, helping him lower Teyla without dropping her.

'You're hurt,' he grunted, but apparently she wasn't about to let that get in the way.

'And you're weak, but between the two of us I figure we got this,' she chirped, giving him a grin.

He'd learned never to underestimate the women of Atlantis, so accepted her offer without further question. They took an arm each and pulled Teyla up into a standing position, then they wrapped her arms around their shoulders began to drag her toward the door. She was still heavy, but between the two of them it felt more manageable.

Ronon tried to take the bulk of Teyla's weight, knowing how much it had to hurt Mehra to support her that way. 'Where are we going?' he asked, as he swiped the key card and the door pulled back.

'I know a little spot where we should be able to hide out for a while,' Mehra answered. 'You bring that right hook and we should be good.'

Ronon grinned, happier than he'd felt in a long time. He'd been alone for so long in those mines he'd forgotten what it was like to be part of a team. And although it wasn't exactly the team he was used to, it felt good to have someone there willing to fight alongside him if it came to that. The burden of getting Teyla out was no longer his alone to bear.

oooOOOooo

There was a lot of confusing data in Akalus' files, Rodney discovered as he spooled through reams and reams of data. Hakkar appeared to have fallen asleep in the seat he'd sat down in, although it was hard to tell without being able to see his face behind his breathing gear. He'd gone quiet and immobile for some half an hour at least, and Rodney had just continued to work, feeling the most relaxed he had since he'd been imprisoned.

But this was going to take some time, and since he was also supposed to be solving the time travel glitch and calculate the new positions of the Pegasus Stargates, he was starting to worry that Akalus might get suspicious that he wasn't doing what he'd asked him to.

He set down his tablet and stretched, his muscles and joints seized up from hours hunched over his work. He wasn't getting any younger…although that was a positive compared to Akalus' plan to ensure nobody got any older. He made a mental note not to complain about his aches and pains so much if he ever made it back to Atlantis. If. And if he planned to do that, figuring out how to make the Kheprian time drive work was pretty much a central part to that plan. So, working on the drive was a win-win…as long as they ultimately stopped Akalus.

A soft buzz came from Hakkar. Yep, definitely asleep. God how desperately he needed sleep too. But this work was vital, so he was going to have to just catch snatches where he could. But once he got back to Atlantis, the first thing he was doing was curling up in bed for a week…maybe even two.

He was startled from those pleasant thoughts by the sound of light footsteps on the metal flooring of the ship's ramp. Only one person he knew was that light on their feet.

He turned around and kicked Hakkar's leg. The Kheprian jumped awake and McKay whispered. 'Akalus.'

Hakkar leaped to his feet, holding his weapon and standing rigidly at post.

Rodney returned his attention to the drive and pretended not to hear Akalus approach, but now he knew he was on his way, the light foot falls were acutely apparent. He did his best not to look nervous before the man announced his presence, especially since he'd long ago figured out Akalus got some kind of kick out of making him jump out of his skin.

'Still hard at work, Dr McKay?' that familiar mechanised voice asked.

He faked surprise, dropping his screwdriver for added effect. 'Oh…err...yes…very.'

'Have you made much progress?'

'Well, since Lurch here is as much use as a glass hammer when it comes to Kheprian time travel technology, isolating the circuitry involved in the time dilation field is proving more complicated than I'd hoped.'

'I see.'

'I doubt that,' McKay muttered under his breath, getting back to his work. Akalus came closer, standing at his shoulder. It didn't help his concentration, but he figured it probably wasn't meant to.

Akalus proceeded to move in even closer, casting a shadow that blocked the already poor light Rodney was working in. He looked up and gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Do you mind? Trying to work here.'

Akalus didn't growl exactly, but the tremor of the ship made it feel like he did. 'Perhaps if you had spent more time working on the projects I have set you, and less time reading my personal files, more progress would have been made.'

Rodney froze, all except for the slight shaking in his hands. He turned slowly to face his accuser. 'I…I had to do some research...I didn't want to trouble you by asking for codes when it was simple enough to get around them,' he lied – badly.

Akalus pressed in closer until McKay was completely backed up against the control panel he'd accessed. 'You must think me terribly stupid, McKay,' Akalus charged, his voice both quiet and yet at the same time utterly terrifying. 'Nothing in the files you read will have helped you with any of the work I have set for you.'

'Actually, it did help,' Rodney replied, lifting his chin and fighting hard to stop his legs from buckling. 'I learned just how crazy you are and that I have no intention of finishing the calculations you need so you can unleash the gravitational forces of a black hole on the universe. So…good luck with that!'

Akalus didn't move back. 'Curiosity comes at a price, McKay,' he said softly. 'As does defiance. I'm not sure it's one you're willing to pay.'

This was one of those moments he wished he was more like Sheppard. He'd have a clever line to throw back at Akalus, and he'd stand his ground without shaking like a leaf in a gale. He swallowed hard and managed to whisper, 'I might surprise you.'

Although there was no way to see even a glimpse of Akalus' face behind his visor, Rodney got the distinct impression he was wearing some kind of crazed grin. 'We'll see, shall we?'

Then he turned abruptly shouting, 'Bring him,' to Hakkar as he passed him on his way back off the ship.

Hakkar paused only briefly before grasping hold of Rodney's arm and dragging him away in Akalus' wake. He still had to keep up the pretence if he wanted to help his men…which didn't bode well in terms of protecting him.

Rodney guessed they really were about to find out if he could afford Akalus' price after all.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard was forced to shield his eyes from the sun as he emerged from Mishta's shelter and followed both her and Lansha over to the Founder's meeting place. Warm air filled his lungs, taking his breath away as the sun burned into his retinas, leaving him stumbling until Mishta caught him and set him steady. He knew he would get used to this feeling, that he would plateau very soon before the euphoria left him. But right now, his sensitivity to everything was almost overwhelming.

Apparently alarmed by his current state, Sheppard heard someone run over and ask, 'Are you all right, Human?'

'Never better!' he quipped, grinning back at the familiar form of Juroah silhouetted in front of him.

'Mishta gave him some of the enzyme you and she collected…I'd like to discuss that with you, by the way,' Lansha told him.

'Oh, don't worry yourself over it, Lansha,' the older male replied with a dismissive flap of his hand. 'We're all in one piece.'

'More through luck than planning,' the hybrid muttered under his breath, unimpressed.

Sheppard could practically feel the smirk spreading across Mishta's face without even looking at her. Just another typical brother/sister moment, he guessed. He could still remember what sibling rivalry was like, even if he and Dave had barely spoken for the past fifteen years.

He realised as they progressed and the sun was blocked out by some of the taller trees surrounding the clearing that everyone was watching him…everyone including Marmotah, who was now planted directly in their path. When they tried to walk around him he simply repositioned himself in front of Sheppard, catching hold of his arm in a vice-like grip as he tried to pass him.

'What were you doing in Mishta's shelter alone with her?' he demanded, the kind of fire in his eyes that could only lead to trouble.

'Move aside, Marmotah. We need to see Goronak,' Mishta growled, trying to shoulder past him and take Sheppard along with her.

She earned a shove for her troubles that made her stumble. 'Not until one of you answers my question.'

Sheppard balled his fists at his sides. He hated the way this male treated Mishta, but if he showed him how much right now he might just take the runt's head off of his shoulders. The enzyme had healed his body and given him surplus strength that was just itching to be released. Marmotah was too easy a target under the circumstances, though. 'Let us pass,' he growled, but Lansha was quick to intervene before he could say anything else.

'Nothing unsuitable happened, Marmotah. You have nothing to worry about,' Lansha assured him. 'Mishta was merely giving our friend medication to ensure his health for the mission.'

'Our friend?' Marmotah spat, with a bitter chuckle. 'This human is no friend to us. The death toll is already climbing. How long before he ends us all?'

'He wasn't the one who brought the Reliquiae down on us,' Mishta pointed out, slamming her hand into his shoulder and sending him stumbling now. 'You did that to us.'

'Did I?' he demanded. 'Or had they already tracked him. Perhaps you and Juroah should shoulder that blame for bringing him to our camp.'

'On Goronak's orders!'

'A mission your brother insisted was essential. So perhaps he is to blame, then.'

Juroah and Lansha were forced to grab Mishta as she made ready to launch herself at her supposed beau, her brother whispering soothing words to the tune of not wasting time on him, and that he was still grieving so didn't know what he was saying along with other platitudes.

Sheppard watched her visibly relax and nod that she would respect their advice, flicking a quick glance his way as if a little embarrassed to have lost her cool in front of him. That was a move that only seemed to ignite Marmotah's anger still more.

'Why is it you look to him for approval? Where's my apology?' he demanded. He grabbed a fistful of Sheppard's shirt and pulled him forward. 'This creature is nothing but a scourge in our galaxy. He is our death. And yet you seem to spend more time with him than you do with me.'

'Goronak charged me with watching him –'

'Even at night?' he snapped, giving Sheppard a shake. 'I saw you head to his shelter while Lansha was away, whore.'

Her jaw dropped, but she didn't reply. It was a sure sign of a guilty conscience, and they needed a diversion.

'Hey…watch your mouth,' Sheppard growled, feeling anger whirling up inside him, driving him toward action.

'You dare speak to me that way, Human?' Marmotah rasped, drawing back his arm, ready to swing.

Now Lansha pushed in front of him, forming a barrier between the two of them and forcing Marmotah to relinquish his grip. 'I asked her to check on the human while I was away,' Lansha lied, defending his sister. 'I assure you she has not broken the commitment and was only fulfilling her duty to care for him as insisted on in our traditions.'

'And how would you know?' You weren't there when she entered. I watched the shelter a while. I know they were alone for some time.'

'They said nothing happened. Is Mishta's word not good enough for you?' Juroah asked, an uncustomary sharpness to his tone.

'Not since her mind has become addled with thoughts of this…creature.'

A buzz of excitement was spreading through the onlookers. Many were gathering and coming in closer to hear the exchange; others scurried away, their purpose unclear. To Sheppard, it seemed everything was focused on them; even the wildlife in the surrounding woodland seemed to have fallen silent for the moment. And this was the point he decided he'd had enough.

'You know what, she's too good for you,' Sheppard announced, stepping from behind the physical shield Lansha was trying to provide him with, ready to take on this piece of crap if that was the way he wanted it. Marmotah had no idea what he was getting into.

A sneer curled Marmotah's thin lips and he pulled his right arm back again, letting loose an impressive hook…

…that Sheppard simply caught with his right hand and stopped dead.

The look of shock that registered on Marmotah's face was hugely satisfying. Sheppard couldn't stop what he knew was a menacing smile from spreading on his face. 'We can do this if you want to, but it won't end well for you,' he promised, eyes locked fiercely onto the smaller man's now frightened gaze. He applied a little more pressure to his grip on Marmotah's fist as an additional warning and soon felt the force behind it disintegrate. He let go and Marmotah's arm fell to his side as he began to back away. 'You're fools if you don't see where this is leading. He's going back to Phylacos to fulfil his destiny. He'll be the end of all of us.'

'Marmotah, that's enough!'

Goronak's stern command sliced through the air like a sabre, ending the argument in an instant. Marmotah glanced at the founder, murmured an apology, then scurried away, no doubt feeling he had saved face by not leaving until the founder had intervened.

Goronak watched him go, then turned his attention to Sheppard. He walked right up to his, staring up into his eyes. 'Is he right? Do you mean to help Akalus see his plan through?'

'No,' Sheppard replied, matter of fact.

The Founder stared at him a while longer, scouring his face with his watery old lilac eyes, then gave a sharp nod. 'Good enough,' he grunted, turning his back on the group and heading back to the meeting point. 'Let's make our preparations.'

Sheppard looked around at his companions, finding them all watching him with a new level of wariness. 'After you,' Juroah gestured, making it clear he should go first. He followed Goronak, hearing the others fall into step behind him. He felt strong enough to take on the whole galaxy right now, let alone Akalus and Phylacos. For the first time since they'd made their plans, he began to believe he could actually pull this off…and save his friends in the process.

oooOOOooo

Juroah slowed the transport craft to a stop as Phylacos came into view on the horizon. It was the only landmark for miles, the area surrounding it lying desolate and bare. A vast monolith to human suffering and degradation. Yeah, it might be a good thing to raze it to the ground, Sheppard told himself, another pep-talk to keep his hopes alive. The full effects of his treatment had begun to fade an hour or so ago, and now he was feeling all together very much himself again.

And vulnerable. He really didn't like feeling vulnerable. But at least his body was healed and strong enough to take on whatever might lie ahead…he hoped.

As the engines died, Sheppard felt a sudden escalation in the panic the enzyme had been suppressing all morning. This was it - the point of no return. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Lansha's hand on his shoulder brought him back to his senses. 'You understand the plan, don't you, Human?'

It bothered him that Lansha wouldn't use his real name in front of the others, but since it was the least of his worries at this point in time, he let it slide. 'I guess so.'

They had concealed fifteen tiny but potent incendiary devices on his body under pieces of something that felt like latex and possessed chameleon-like qualities, changing appearance to mimic whatever it was in contact with. There were five concealed on the inside of each of his forearms, and five more across his stomach beneath his shirt. They hoped that as the guards led him through Palaquora to his cell, he would be able to peel off each piece of artificial skin and drop them at strategically effective points on different levels to ensure the destruction of the majority of the prison. Before the detonation, his companions would fire up the disrupter, taking out the power in the complex and so giving him the opportunity to get to the surface and save himself and as many other humans as he could. The incendiaries themselves were protected by the amazing chameleon patches, that as well as performing as the perfect disguise also formed miniature Faraday Cages around the devices to keep the power of the disruptor from affecting their functioning. It all sounded simple enough, but Sheppard knew how the simplest plans could often go horrible awry. He wasn't about to count his chickens just yet.

'I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the importance of what you do today, Human,' Goronak said solemnly. 'The future of the universe depends on the success of your actions.'

'Really?' Sheppard quipped, trying to sound confident. 'I had no idea. Thanks for pointing that out.'

Juroah could not help laughing. 'You amuse me, Human,' he chuckled, shaking his head.

'This is no laughing matter, you two,' Goronak chided as if they were naughty school children.

Juroah straightened his face and looked immediately apologetic, while Sheppard only rolled his eyes. This guy was obviously the key doomsayer of the group; he had absolutely no sense of humour. He'd met far too many COs like that in his time.

Sitting at the back of the transporter, Mishta remained uncharacteristically silent. Sheppard sensed her staring at him, making him feel even more self-conscious than he already did. There was something about the intensity of her violet gaze that could reduce him to a wreck in seconds.

'Cheer up,' he called to her. 'You're getting rid of me at last.'

She tried to smile, but the way her mouth quivered with the strain suggested she was struggling not to cry, something else out of character for her.

'We'll need to co-ordinate our timing,' Lansha said, taking hold of Sheppard's wrist and checking his watch while looking at the hefty pocket watch his father had given him. They looked so different…lifetimes apart, that the alien was having trouble deciphering them.

'You sure that thing keeps good time?' he asked, worried to be relying on something from the early 1800s. 'It's pretty old.'

'My father told me it was the best time-keeper he'd ever owned. I have been taking good care of it, just as he showed me how to.'

Sheppard gave up a wry smile. 'Okay…I'll trust you on that.'

'I thought perhaps, we should look to activate the explosives when the hand of my father's watch next reaches the hour of ten,' he suggested, allowing Sheppard to take it from him and adjust it to the exact same time as his own watch. It was a good quality piece. His own father had had something similar handed down through the generations and no doubt now in David's possession, and he knew his dad would never have kept it if it was anything other than excellent. He wasn't a sentimental man. If he'd kept it, it was because it was worth something.

His own watch currently read 1112 hours. Sheppard felt a little sick. That meant the explosives would be detonated almost eleven hours from now. Which in turn meant they expected him to spend several hours in that place before they would even begin the disruption. 'Why so long?' he asked, casually, belying his true feelings.

'We have no idea how Akalus will react to your return. He may want to question you before sending you back to the cells, so we need to allow some passage of time to be sure you can distribute the explosives through several levels of the facility if possible.'

Sheppard nodded, his stomach now somersaulting at the thought of it all. The serum had calmed him for a while but was wearing off now, and the idea of spending so much time there now knocked that serenity out of the stadium. 'A lot can happen in that place in ten hours,' he said quietly.

Lansha jumped out of the craft, followed by Juroah. 'Come on, Human,' Juroah called to him. 'There's no point in delaying.'

Sheppard could think of several good reasons to delay, but none they would be interested in hearing. Reluctantly, he disembarked and joined them on the dusty ground on a level with that nightmarish building.

'We've set the incendiaries to explode at ten hours according to your watch. We will activate the power disruptor at thirty minutes past the hour of nine, so you have thirty of your minutes to get to the surface. I hope that will give you enough time.'

' _You_ hope!' Sheppard half-laughed.

Juroah chuckled again and took hold of his forearm, pulling him in for a masculine show of camaraderie with a hug and a slap on the back. 'My thoughts and hopes go with you, Human.'

Lansha, similarly, embraced Sheppard. 'Good luck, friend. I hope to see you again before the new day arrives.'

He smiled weakly. 'I'll do my best not to let you down.'

Lansha looked out across the long stretch of dry land between them and the compound, wiping a few beads of sweat from his brow. 'I'm sorry we couldn't take you closer, but we can't risk being seen.'

Sheppard shrugged; there wasn't much else they could have done. 'That's okay. I understand.'

Goronak looked over the side of the craft at him. 'May the protection of Oriah surround you.'

Having no idea who Oriah was, Sheppard assumed that was some kind of Birajan blessing. He gave the old man a nod and his thanks then turned to face Phylacos, the sun glinting off its glass and buckled metal roof. It looked peaceful from this distance, showing no hint of the chaos and heartache it harboured within its rusting walls and deep, underground chambers. He glanced back at the craft. Mishta was nowhere in sight, not even a glimpse of those pretty violet eyes peering at him over the side of the ship. He tried to ignore the sense of disappointment that gnawed at him. They had agreed that last night had been a mistake and neither of them actually had feelings for each other, so it wasn't like she owed him a goodbye…even if everyone else there had managed it. He wasn't exactly good at goodbyes anyway…

Ignoring the ache of sadness, he returned his attention to Phylacos. He supposed there was no time like the present, so, taking a deep breath, he began to walk toward it.

He'd taken at least fifty paces when he heard footfalls racing to catch up with him. He turned just as Mishta began to slow, a cloud of dusty sand settling in her wake.

Having no idea what to say to her, he waited for her to fill the awkward silence. Over her shoulder, he became acutely aware of Lansha and Juroah keeping a watchful eye on them.

Mishta took a breath to steady herself, then she extended her hand toward him. He looked at it, then back up to her pain-filled eyes, before accepting the gesture. She pulled him in and clapped a hand on his back, bringing her mouth close to his ear.

'Come back to us,' she whispered, and then planted a kiss on his neck that sent a thrill down the full length of his spine.

He pulled back, knowing the kiss had been so subtle their audience would not have seen it. He deliberately forced himself not to react in a manner that would give it away, desperate as he was to reciprocate the affection. His voice caught in his throat when he tried to respond, leaving him speechless. It had been a long time since anyone had affected him this deeply.

She clung to his arm so tightly it had to be leaving bruises, and the look in her eyes was so intense he felt certain that if the others weren't there she would have thrown him to the floor and had her way with him right there in the dust. Perhaps they hadn't been entirely honest about how they felt after all…

Sheppard tried to pull his arm back, but found her reluctant to relinquish her grip on him. He tried again, a little more insistently this time, and she slackened off enough for him to slide his hand through hers. As the contact broke, her arm fell limply to her side and her shoulders dropped. He knew she didn't expect to see him again, and if he really thought about it, he suspected she was right. The odds weren't exactly stacked in his favour.

'I'll see you later,' he said, forcing out a tone of bravado that his trembling body didn't fully support.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought hard not to shed them in front of him. 'Until then.'

He turned his back on her, and headed off once again.

This time, no one stopped him.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this is so late! Real life ambushed me and the first free time I got since the previous chapter was last night. Apologies if it's not as tight as usual but it was a bit of a rush to get it done. As always. Thanks to everyone sticking with the story. It's much appreciated. :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Rodney lay flat on his back on the floor of Akalus' office, recovering from the merciless beating he'd endured for his insolence. His head thumped in time with his pounding heartbeat, his vision phasing in and out as he struggled to stay conscious.

'Did you really think you could stop me?' the armoured man demanded, standing over him, casting his long shadow over Rodney's motionless form.

Rodney groaned, but didn't reply. He figured it was a rhetorical question anyway.

Akalus bent down and caught him by the hair, lifting his head up off the hard floor. 'Answer me!' he demanded

Okay, so not rhetorical then. Rodney held his tongue, determined to admit to nothing. This interrogation had been going on for some time now – at a rough estimate, at least a couple of hours. He'd maintained his silence throughout, albeit punctuated with a few cries and groans, and he wasn't about to break now. Sheppard would have been so proud of him. He hadn't screamed like a girl or fainted once. That had to be a record for him. His occasional spars with Ronon, although few and far between, had apparently paid off.

Frustrated, Akalus allowed Rodney's head to drop to the floor again, cracking the back of his skull against the hard surface. Once upon a time that would have been worth a protest, but considering his whole body was engulfed in agony, it was hardly worth a mention, at least no more than a whimper.

'How did you get into my files? How much do you know? Were you deliberately trying to get into my personal files, or was it just by chance you found yourself there?' Akalus demanded…again. Like a broken record, repeating over and over…

The sharp contact of a boot in his ribs brought Rodney back to his senses despite his brain's best efforts to shut him down. He rolled his eyes in Akalus' direction, but once again refused to give him an answer. His jaw hurt so much he doubted he could speak if he wanted to. It was definitely cracked, possibly broken. It was going to be months before he could eat solids again at least. Not that he got anything other than that sloppy frogspawn crap in this place anyway. What he wouldn't give for a pepperoni pizza right now…or an ice-cream sundae with extra whipped cream and sprinkles considering his probably, ever so likely broken jaw issue. Anything other than that insipid, slimy mulch they served up here.

'You try my patience,' Akalus growled, tearing at Rodney's hair again. 'You're only human, so ultimately dispensable.'

'And you think that frightens me?' McKay croaked, finally breaking his silence. To be honest, he only said that because he was pretty much certain Akalus needed him. He wouldn't have dared say it if he didn't…and maybe also because he didn't think it was possible to hurt any more than he already did. Every new torture just blended into his general malaise now. He hadn't thought he could bear the kind of beating he'd been put through, but hey,

'It should,' he told him, pulling his head up further, until Rodney was on his knees before him. 'Because there are many ways in which to die in Phylacos, all of them more horrible than your pitifully unimaginative mind can conjure.'

Akalus released him with a push. Then, unexpectedly, a change came over him. Without being able to see his face, Rodney couldn't fully interpret the change until Akalus actually turned and offered his hand to him to help him to his feet.

'You humans are such brave creatures,' he whispered. 'I never cease to be amazed by you. You make your futile little stands believing you have something worth fighting for. Peace, dignity, friendships, freedom…empty, hollow beliefs that amount to nothing in the entirety of this existence you pass through so fleetingly.'

Rodney begrudgingly admitted to himself that Akalus' words were rather poetic as far as threats went. 'W…Well,' he stammered, with a determined jut of his jaw. 'Those things may not be important to you, but they're –'

'— Facile and insignificant in comparison to the horrors humankind has inflicted on this universe,' Akalus interjected. He leaned his face in close to Rodney's, so he was nose to nose with his reflection in Akalus' visor. 'You realise resisting me is pointless because I have all the control here? I can crush you out of existence, or make your life so painful you'll wish I had.'

'Facile or not, you obviously need me alive or you'd have killed me already,' McKay charged through clenched teeth, wondering where the hell that death-wish of an accusation had come from. He wasn't really the brave and challenging type; this was more Ronon and Sheppard's thing. But he knew what he was saying was true, and he clung to that belief now as the room began to tremble around him, a sure sign that Akalus was ready to explode.

The door to the office opened and Hakkar stepped inside. He gave only the slightest pause on seeing McKay sprawled out on the floor before continuing to enter the room. He had the sense, however, to wait until invited to speak rather than interrupting his master.

Eventually, Akalus turned to face the Kheprian guard. 'This had better be good, Hakkar. Can't you see I'm busy?'

The Kheprian seemed unshaken by his insinuated threat. 'I think you will want to stop for this news, Master,' he replied. The missing human has returned.'

oooOOOooo

Under Mehra's direction, she and Ronon carried Teyla onto the balcony area of the hangar and lowered her gently to the floor, both of them left breathless by the effort.

Mehra hunched down into the corner where she'd hidden while watching the Reliquiae strip the flesh from some unfortunate human's bones and waited for the pain to pass. A wave of sadness came over her as she thought of Sheppard again. She couldn't feel happy for him, even though Geeja had told her he was still alive. Even if that were true, which she seriously doubted, somewhere those unholy beasts were holding him against his will, and he hadn't wanted to go with them. When they got out of here, discovering Sheppard's fate had to be their next priority. He might not have become their next course yet, and could possibly still be alive as Geeja insisted, but something told her it was only a matter of time before his usefulness as sustenance outweighed their other needs.

She and Ronon managed to prop Teyla into a sitting position, leaning her head back against the wall for support. She was still out cold, and hadn't shown even the slightest sign that she was coming out of it. It was an added complication they could do without, but it wasn't as if they could just leave her there. They would simply have to wait it out and take the opportunity to rest to give them the strength to press on.

'What should we do now?' Ronon asked.

Mehra was surprised to hear him ask for her advice. She'd expected him to be ready to fight their way out of there one Kheprian at a time. But she could see real fatigue in his drawn face, the dark purple rings around his eyes seeming to deepen there in the shadows. 'For now, we just sit tight and wait for Teyla to wake up. We can't go any further trying to carry her – neither of us is strong enough.'

Ronon nodded his agreement while at the same time looking like he wanted to punch a wall in sheer frustration. She suspected he hated playing this waiting game just as much as she did, but they had little choice, all things considered. It was pretty much all she could do not to puke right now. Her shoulders throbbed and bled out through the lab tunic they'd stolen from the Birajans. She'd shut the pain out long enough to help move Teyla, sheer stubbornness keeping her going, but now she needed to rest. The pain was too much to ignore any longer. Once Teyla was awake, they could move on without any more strain on her injuries. And they would be able to move more quickly too, which had to be a win-win.

Teyla suddenly groaned and shifted slightly in her sleep. Ronon stroked her cheek, his eyes fixed intently on her face. Mehra felt like a third wheel, imposing on their friendship like this, but she didn't exactly have anywhere else to go. She looked out over the balcony to give Ronon as much privacy as she could while he looked after Teyla and made her comfortable.

Down at ground level, she heard the tell-tale screeches of Kheprians approaching, their raised voices growing steadily louder as they entered through a doorway beneath them. Hearing the disturbance, she and Ronon instinctively ducked down, pulling Teyla a little further into the corner where Ronon practically wrapped himself around their unconscious companion so he could shield her. Mehra's natural sense of curiosity, however, forced her to take another look to see what was causing the excitement below them. Something had the Kheprians decidedly riled, and anything that pissed them off this much had to be a good thing.

There were half a dozen Kheprians entering, two of them dragging a struggling human along with them. At first there were so many guards crowded around him that she couldn't see anything more than an occasional flash of dark clothing…then dark hair. A queasy flip of hopefulness leapt in her stomach, and a thought she hadn't dared to think demanded to be heard. Was it really him? Had he really survived?

The guards threw the human to the floor in the middle of the room, and forced him to remain on his knees before them. They squeaked and screeched orders to each other, none of which made any sense to her, as she tried to see between their legs to get a good view of the man who was causing them so much consternation.

Only after a few more minutes screeching, prodding and shoving did they back off and give the human in their midst some room to breathe.

Sheppard sat back on his heels, looking around at his captors. Other than a scrape on his left cheekbone he seemed mostly unharmed. The Reliquiae really hadn't tried to eat him after all. He'd been cleaned up and his complexion was several shades healthier than when she'd last seen him. If he hadn't been so thin she'd have described him as back to his old self again.

'Holy crap! It is! It's Sheppard!' she whispered, unable to keep the crazy grin she wore from spreading across her face.

Ronon was immediately beside her, and then he was grinning too. This was the first time he'd laid eyes on Sheppard for six months. Mehra was glad he hadn't seen him before he'd been taken. It was better for him to see his friend this way. A desperately sick Sheppard might have made him do something rash.

The sense of guilt she'd carried for the past few days lifted off her almost instantly. She hadn't let Sheppard die. He really had survived. And he looked so different. So well – although completely outnumbered by Kheprian bully boys right now. Her protective instincts stirred. She wanted to get down there and kick some Kheprian butt, but she had to tell herself there was nothing effective she could do for him at this moment. Better to wait for another and more realistic opportunity to show itself.

Beside her, Ronon had also settled into tense contemplation, but he too stayed concealed. They needed to maintain what little advantage their freedom gave them. Sheppard just had to hang on a while longer until they could get to him.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard thought about trying to get back to his feet, but a restraining claw on his shoulder made him reconsider. Perhaps kneeling wasn't such a bad idea. He'd walked a fair distance in desert heat – he supposed he could use the rest.

The Kheprians were in a state of great agitation around him. Goronak had told him the Kheprians didn't work willingly for Akalus, but that really wasn't the vibe he was getting from them. They seemed unnaturally pleased that their master's prize had returned. Why would they care if they weren't on his side? That didn't fit with Goronak's story at all.

He wondered about talking to them, trying to find out if there was any leeway in their devotion to their illustrious, power-crazed leader, but he wasn't sure he dared. They'd already scuffed him up a bit just bringing him into the compound. If they didn't like his suggestions of insurrection, things could go south real quick.

He looked up at the one standing closest to him, trying to decide whether to speak to him or keep quiet. The guard saw him raise his head and swung back his club like upper right pincer, ready to lash out at him. Sheppard flinched, closing his eyes and waiting for the blow…that never came.

When he dared to open his eyes, he saw Wanless standing over him, tightly gripping the arm that had been about to strike him. He said nothing, just held the other Kheprian's arm to prevent him from striking Sheppard. Eventually, as the other Kheprian relaxed his stance, Wanless let go of him and the guard backed away, subservient before his superior officer. Sheppard looked up at Wanless' masked face, wondering what the creature was thinking. It was odd that he'd stepped in to help him after all the previous animosity between them. Could Goronak be right after all.

'Thanks,' he ventured, figuring it couldn't hurt.

The three-armed Kheprian snorted and looked away as the ground began to tremble beneath them.

Sheppard knew what that meant.

Akalus was coming.

Wanless grabbed hold of Sheppard's head and pressed it down, forcing him low. At first, he thought it was a punishment, but then he realised that, with no idea he could understand his language, this was the only way the huge brute could quickly explain that he should bow his head. He stopped resisting the pressure and did just that, keeping his head low as the ground shook in time with Akalus' approaching footsteps. Happy with his compliance, Wanless removed the pressure he'd been applying and moved aside.

Eventually, Sheppard saw a set of boots come to a standstill in front of him.

The silence that followed crushed the air out of his lungs. Sheppard stayed low, not wanting any trouble that might leave him incapable of carrying out his mission. Eventually though, he couldn't take the silence any longer, and slowly lifted his head to look up at his captor.

Akalus loomed over him without speaking, but his anger was clear from the continual rumbling in the floor where Sheppard knelt. He knew Akalus wouldn't kill him, but he was sure he could inflict a lot of pain before he'd finished with him, then have him patched up in the lab so he could start all over again. The Birajans here were good at that kind of thing.

'Where have you been, Human?' Akalus finally asked.

'I was in a rebel camp. They stole me from the Reliquiae and held on to me while they figured out what they should do next. When they decided to kill me, I escaped and came back here. I didn't know where else to go.'

Akalus squatted down in front of him examining his newly replicated clothes, and stroking his gloved fingers down his three-day-old stubble. 'The Reliquiae treated you well, I see.'

'Hardly,' he muttered, regretting it as Akalus grabbed his chin, the metal plates of his gloves digging into his flesh.

'Then, you prefer your treatment here? You wish to go back to your cell?'

'I don't have much of a choice. The Reliquiae want to hook me on enzyme so I'm a slave to them, or I go back to my cell and I'm a prisoner to you. So, I figured coming back here was my best option since at least no one here wants to eat me.'

'You shouldn't be so ungrateful,' Akalus growled, releasing his grip on him. 'The Reliquiae have done you a favour, Human. They saved your life when it had all but abandoned you.'

'I know,' he said meekly. 'Doesn't mean I have to like it.'

Akalus took a couple of steps back and regarded him silently, apparently mulling his response over. Apparently Sheppard hadn't been as convincing as he'd hoped to be, because Akalus eventually pulled himself up to his full and considerable height and asked, 'So, why are you really here?'

The ground beneath Sheppard trembled more forcefully, sending tremors through his whole body. It felt like even nature responded to Akalus' commands. 'I told you, I didn't know where else to go,' he repeated, shrinking back from him as the vibrations increased.

Akalus stepped in closer again, bending over him until his visor almost touched the tip of Sheppard's nose. 'You lie,' he said simply.

'Wha -'

'I said, you lie,' he growled again.

'Why…why would I lie about this?'

'Because you are hiding something from me.'

 _Oh, crap!_ Sheppard thought. _How does he know?_ Then he realised he was reading him somehow…reading him like the Wraith could. He had to close down his mind to him before he accessed the truth.

'You have learned of your purpose here in Gragoffa,' Akalus charged, already through his initial barriers.

'What purpose? To make money for you? I already knew that.'

A backhand fro Akalus' armoured hand left his ears ringing. 'You know that isn't what I mean.'

Sheppard wiggled his jaw to make sure it was still in place after the heavy blow. 'Then, I've got no idea -'

Akalus held up his hand, and Sheppard found he instantly had no voice. 'No more of your lies,' he ordered. 'If you know who I am, as I suspect you do, you will understand that lying to me is pointless. I see and know everything.'

He pressed his hand to Sheppard's chest. A weird sensation filled him, like his blood was bubbling and rushing through his veins far too quickly. Looking down at the back of his hands, he saw all his veins suddenly standing proud, forcing their way to the surface of his skin. What the hell was he doing to him?

'The universe is so much more than we can see and touch. We are surrounded by energy – it penetrates us, and moves through us –'

Was this guy seriously going Star Wars on him? Sheppard felt a wave of pain throughout his body as his veins bulged still more. It felt as though they would rupture, but Akalus didn't relent. He held him at that point of agony for far longer than was fair or necessary. Eventually, he got the result he wanted, and Sheppard cried out for him to stop.

Akalus withdrew his hand, leaving Sheppard frightened and shaken. That had been by far the worst pain he'd experienced in his life, and his life had been pretty crap of late.

'I control that energy, Human. And while I control it, you cannot hope to defeat me.'

Sheppard took a few minutes to regain his breath, before growling, 'We'll see about that, you sad old Vader wannabe.'

If he hadn't been so shocked and angry, he would have realised that such a disrespectful retort, even if the reference was lost on Akalus, was bound to land him in more trouble. Akalus slapped him hard across the face again, leaving his cheek stinging and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. It felt like he'd been hit with a shovel. He half-expected to open his eyes to a circle of cartoon birds twittering around his head.

'You will not talk to me that way.'

Sheppard just glared, earning himself a second slap. Vision swimming and ears ringing, he forced himself to look away, bowing his head again. Maybe attitude wasn't the right way to go. He really did need to stay conscious and mobile to distribute the explosives.

The ground, which had begun to quake with tremendous power along with Akalus' rising temper, now steadied again to a slight tremble. 'That's better, Human,' Akalus' synthesised voice purred. 'Know your place and everything will be much easier for you. Work with me, not against me, and your remaining time can be peaceful.'

In fact, Sheppard was beginning to understand his place very well. Akalus might be strong and perceptive, but he was also arrogant, and that was a weakness he could exploit. He blanked his mind, put up an imaginary wall around his thoughts, and hoped he could keep him out. Shutting him down, he tried desperately to think of nothing – to empty his mind of any trace of the plan.

Eventually, Akalus appeared to accept there was nothing more to his return than self-preservation.

'Take him to my chamber, Hakkar,' he said, turning and walking away. 'I'll talk to him there.'

Acting quickly before Wanless could grab hold of him and haul him from the room, Sheppard dislodged one of the patches from his arm. It fell to the floor, instantly camouflaged.

oooOOOooo

Mehra watched Wanless grasp Sheppard roughly by the arms and drag him out through the doorway. He offered little resistance, obviously understanding it would be both futile and painful. Only now did she realise how fast her heart was pounding, her joy at seeing Sheppard alive and apparently well sending it into overdrive. She lowered herself back down to her haunches beside Teyla just in time to see her eyes strain open.

Ronon quickly clamped a huge hand over her mouth, gesturing with a finger to his lips, that she should be quiet. As he gradually removed his hand, Teyla held her peace, looking around in complete bewilderment.

Mehra gently touched her arm. 'Teyla? You okay?'

Teyla looked puzzled. 'Sergeant Mehra? How did you get here?'

Mehra sighed, exchanging an anxious glance with Ronon. 'The bug guys kidnapped me. We talked about this before. Don't you remember?'

The confusion reflected in Teyla's expression just deepened.

'You feel all right?' Mehra asked again.

Teyla looked at her, clearly still dazed. 'Yes, I think so. But where are we? How did we get here?' she whispered.

Mehra wasn't sure where to start her explanation. It was clear that whatever those scientists had done to Teyla had caused some short-term amnesia, so much so that Mehra wondered if she remembered anything at all. 'Do remember anything about where you are?'

'Of course,' she said, frowning at both Mehra and Ronon as if wondering why they were treating her like an idiot. 'We are in Phylacos. But why am I no longer in the mines?' her gaze drifted to the growing spots of blood on the front of Mehra's jacket. 'You are hurt. I should take a look at your injuries.'

Mehra hushed her. 'I don't have time to explain everything right now, or for you to look at any injuries. I'm good to go,' she said, looking to Ronon to take the lead.

'You sure you're okay?' he asked Teyla again, as if the answer she'd given Mehra wasn't enough to convince him.

She did have a distinctly "spacey" look about her, Mehra conceded, but stoned or not they had to get moving.

'How did I get out of the mines?' Teyla asked again, leaving Ronon rolling his eyes and looking even more wary. 'Where are we now?' She definitely had some time missing, they just had to hope it came back, or she could hold it together well enough not to hinder them.

Mehra took over the conversation again. 'We're on a balcony overlooking the hangar where they brought you in six months ago,' she said. 'We're hiding out here until we get an opportunity to make a break for it.'

'Oh, I see,' Teyla nodded, looking troubled.

'Is something wrong, Teyla?'

'Apart from all this?' she asked, with a wry smile.

Mehra couldn't help but smile, too. 'Yeah, we're in deep crap, all right. But we're gonna to get you outta here, I promise.' Then, she felt a pang of regret as she remembered Sheppard's warning about making promises she had no way of keeping. But she meant to keep this one…she just hadn't quite worked out the finer details yet.

Teyla frowned as if in discomfort, then lifted her top a little to see the red scar on her abdomen. 'Have I undergone surgery?'

'Not surgery exactly. Sheppard said the scientists here take samples for genetic experimentation.'

'John. He is here? You saw him?' her face literally lit up with delight, just as it had the first time she'd found out about him.

Mehra sighed and swiped a hand down over her face. 'Yeah, he's here. We talked about that earlier, too.'

From the corner of her eye she saw Ronon shaking his head, his dreadlocks swaying with the movement. He was worried for Teyla, but he wasn't saying as much.

Teyla looked confused, and clearly wanted her to explain further, but this wasn't the time. Mehra's gaze travelled back down to ground level, and the doorway she'd watched Sheppard leave through. She'd intended to look for Rodney before they made their bid for freedom, and now there was someone else in Phylacos she couldn't leave without. Things were becoming steadily more complicated. She hadn't thought it would be easy, but locating two people in a place as vast as this before the guards discovered them would be verging on impossible.

'So…how we gonna play this?' Ronon asked in his usual no-nonsense way. It warmed her heart to hear this place hadn't taken that directness out of him.

Again, Mehra felt a little out of her depth, more used to taking orders than giving them. But one thing she knew instinctively was that Teyla wasn't up to speed yet, and that made her a liability in terms of carrying out a search. 'First things first, I want you two to sit here and wait for me to get back,' she announced.

'Why? Where are you going?' Ronon asked, as she headed for the door and slipped the key card into the control.

'We need to find McKay and Sheppard,' she answered. 'Moving around in a group risks drawing attention. If I go alone, I can stay hidden.'

'You're hurt. I should go,' he grunted.

'Teyla trusts you. She needs you here,' Mehra insisted. 'I can do this.'

With that, she left, acutely aware of Ronon's burning frustration as she left them both behind.

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know! I'm late again and I am very sorry! My son was going away on a residential trip and washing and packing for him took longer than I anticipated. But here's the update at last. And next week I should have things back to normal. Thanks for your patience, and thanks to everyone leaving reviews. I'll reply individually to those of you who have an account as soon as I can. :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Mishta lounged back in her seat and sipped from her flask as she watched the primary sun slowly moving east across the cloudless sky. It was hot and mind-blowingly boring, and she battled hard with the desire to jump out of the craft and run to the boundary of Phylacos to see what was going on there. Waiting with no news was agony, an agony she wasn't sure she could endure. She was gradually losing her mind with every passing second.

Sheppard hadn't been gone for long, but his absence had already gouged a huge void in her life. She told herself she was being ridiculous. How could he have made such an impact on her in such a short time? She'd never allowed anything to affect her the way he did. And she'd tried not to like him, she really had, but the man had worked his way under her skin and into her heart like no other. Now it felt like he'd torn the heart right out of her. It wasn't a good feeling. It was worse than any illness she'd ever suffered. And she doubted there was a cure other than his safe return. But then what? Even if he came back alive it didn't change their cirumstances. She was promised to another, and he…he was a creature out of his timeline who would be forever forced to hide from the dangers of the galaxy. They could never have a normal life.

Lansha, Juroah, and Goronak sat talking quietly together on the ground a short distance away from the craft, but she didn't feel like joining them. She wanted time to straighten out her thoughts and feelings, but those stupid drugs her brother insisted she should take were making her head woolly and confused. If that poison wasn't raging through her system, all of this would make more sense. Instead of this anguish she would be furious, and rightly so. Akalus had taken everything from her…her home, her sense of safety, her place in the local Birajan community…and now the man that she loved.

She sat bolt upright, her face flushing with heat, and looked across at the others as if that thought had been so huge and profound there was no way they couldn't have felt it. But they continued with their quiet conversation, oblivious to her startling personal revelation. She relaxed back into her seat and put her feet up on the one in front of her, keeping her head down low. Tears pricked at her eyes and she told herself to stop being foolish and wallowing in self-pity. John was gone…nothing barring the kind of miracle she didn't believe in would bring him back to her. But she would play her role, and then she would know there was nothing more she could have done. Today he might become the hero instead of the villain. Today his death might save them all. And if it did that fact would help her to move on…she hoped

Sipping at her water again, she looked over at the seat beside her. The disrupter sat there, harmless and inactive. She tipped it a little, testing its weight. It felt substantial enough; she supposed it might do the job they'd purchased it for, but it was hard to imagine a small box like this could cause chaos throughout the Phylacos compound. But Lansha insisted it worked. He'd supposedly had the Gavallans turn it on briefly before handing over his credits. Not that it had been tested for it's desired purpose. All they knew was that they could switch it on and off. If it failed to disrupt the power in Phylacos, John stood no chance at all.

She checked her own timepiece. There was still so much time before they needed to activate the disrupter and hopefully help John to get out of Akalus' lair. Why did time move so much slower when she was waiting for something to happen? Or, perhaps that was just another tedious and unbearable side effect of the medication she'd taken that morning.

Making herself more comfortable, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to get some sleep while she waited for the deployment to roll around…

 _At shortly before ten on Lansha's pocket watch, Juroah crept their craft silently to within a few hundred yards of Phylacos' perimeter. He killed the engine; they couldn't leave it running when they set the device off or it, too, would cease to function._

 _Lansha sat with the disrupter on his knees, ready to trigger it, pocket watch in hand. Mishta leaned over his shoulder, watching the second hand make three rotations of the face, and when it came to the figure representing the number twelve for the third time, he hit the switch, triggering the device._

 _In an instant, all the lights around Phylacos failed and they heard the distant sound of doors opening, their locking mechanisms no longer functioning._

 _'_ _Yes!' Lansha hissed, punching the air. 'Come on, John. The rest is up to you.'_

 _Restless, and unable to hold back, Mishta jumped over the side of the craft and darted toward the perimeter wall, ignoring the protests of her three companions. She figured everyone inside Phylacos would be busy with other matters and wouldn't notice her approaching anyway._

 _Skulking across the last few yards bent over to keep below the height of the wall, she wedged herself against it and peeked over, hoping to see the beginnings of the mass exodus._

 _There was only noise at first. Shouting. Birajans, Kheprians, and then finally humans, their voices growing steadily louder. She heard anger and she heard fear, but most of all she heard determination._

 _Eventually, the first few human faces appeared through the outer door, and though the Kheprians tried to halt some of them, their sheer numbers meant that they couldn't stop them all._

 _Grinning with joy she never thought she would feel for these people, Mishta watched them begin to climb the previously perilous fencing without fear of lethal doses of power shocking them. Scrawny fingers clasped the gridding as they pulled themselves up and away even from the reaches of their huge captors._

 _Mishta began to assist people who were hesitant in their descent, calling to them to move faster, and grasping their lower limbs to guide them to safe footholds. Once they were down she told them to run in the direction of their waiting craft, hoping her brother would take over from there while she helped yet more of the humans to get safely to their freedom._

 _Time ticked on, and gradually Mishta's initial elation began to turn to trepidation. There had been no sign of John, despite the vast numbers of humans now swarming out of the facility and overwhelming their guards. It occurred to her now that with the power down and the compound in uproar, the one person Akalus would be determined to prevent from escaping was John. What if he was trapped inside? If he was being kept restrained he wasn't going to make it._

 _And so she began to mount the fence, going up and over and running towards the building against the tidal wave of humans surging in the opposite direction. With huge effort, she forced herself in through the door. 'John!'_

 _A few human males turned her way, confused by the use of their name. Realising that there might be more than one John amongst these people, she repeated her call by using his full name, 'John Sheppard!'_

 _No answer, and no one would slow down long enough to answer her questions so she could find out if anyone had seen him._

 _Panic swelling, she forged further in, checking the time. She had only ten minutes before the explosives were set to detonate. She had no hope of searching a place this big in so little time._

 _'_ _John Sheppard!'_

 _'_ _Mishta?'_

 _His voice was faint, but she just heard it over the clamour. 'John! Keep shouting. I'll find you!'_

 _He shouted back, but not to direct her. Time and again he begged her to go, to get out, but all the time she instead tracked the direction of his voice, eventually finding him one floor down._

 _He was in a dark room, so dark she could barely make him out. He was shackled to a huge iron ring in the ceiling, thick cuffs biting into his wrists. His eyes lefted to meet hers with a look of weary desperation. 'I told you to go, now get out of here!' he yelled at her, his anger not entirely convincing._

 _She didn't listen, running toward him and pulling at the chains, testing their strength. They held fast, and no amount of tugging on them – even swinging her full weight off them – would budge the metal ring securing him there._

 _'_ _I've already tried that – I'm stuck,' he told her. 'But you can still get out. Go! Now!'_

 _'_ _Not without you,' she told him, checking the locks on his cuffs and then searching about for something she could try to pick them with. 'I'm duty bound to help you, remember?'_

 _'_ _I don't think that still applies under the current circumstances,' he reasoned. 'Besides, who'd ever know you abandoned your post?'_

 _'_ _I would,' she grunted. Finding a slim metal knife lying on top of a table there in the room, she spun round to return to him, only to find a huge shadowy figure blocking the doorway. Her throat dried. She'd never seen Akalus, had only overheard vague descriptions of him when her father and Lansha had chatted about him when she was young, but she had no doubt who she was looking at._

 _Her grip on the knife tightened._

 _'_ _Let her go. I'm the one you need,' John croaked, trying to defend her by turning Akalus' attention to him._

 _Akalus said nothing, just began moving toward her, slowly, deliberately, seeming to increase in size as he got nearer, filling her view, stealing her air, stealing her light._

 _She trembled, but stood firm. She knew there could only be moments left, that her life was forfeit, but at least she would die taking Akalus with her. If only she'd come looking for John a few minutes sooner, this might have ended differently._

 _Beneath them, a crescendo of fire and noise erupted. She closed her eyes and waited for oblivion to claim her…_

A tap on her shoulder bought Mishta round. On opening her eyes, she found Juroah leaning on the side of the craft beside her. Shaken, she was relieved to realise it had all been a dream.

'Are you all right, Mishta?' he asked. 'Won't you join us for a drink and something to eat?'

'I'm not hungry.'

'You're very quiet today. Do you feel unwell?' he asked.

'No, I'm fine.'

'Then, you worry for our human friend?' he suggested.

She met his inquisitive gaze, but couldn't hold it as she lied, 'Why should I worry? He's no concern of mine,' feigning indifference.

'Really?' he smirked, leaning his chin in his hand as he watched her. 'Is that why you insisted we go to the Wraith craft this morning to collect enzyme for him? That was quite a risk to take for someone who is _no concern of yours_.'

She sighed and rolled her eyes. 'I already explained to you that we did that to give him the best chance of success today.'

'So you did,' he nodded, his eyes still twinkling with mischief. 'But that doesn't explain why you insisted on coming here when we already had enough people to fly the craft and activate the disrupter?'

She narrowed her violet eyes at him, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. 'I wanted to be sure this all went smoothly. I've learned never to leave such things entirely in the hands of males.'

'Is that so?' he said through a suppressed grin. 'Then, we're grateful you spared us your valuable time, Mishta. Whatever would we do without you?'

She huffed a response and turned her back to him, closing her eyes in the hope of finding sleep again.

Giving up on his attempt to draw her out, Juroah wandered back to the others.

She peered back over the side of the craft and watched him slope away, looking a little crestfallen. She felt guilty for not talking more when he had been kind enough to check on her, but she just didn't have the energy to pretend everything was okay and make small talk.

Nothing about this situation was right. All she could hope was that at the end of this horrifying day, Akalus' heart would beat its last.

oooOOOooo

'Is she all right?' Lansha asked as he rejoined them.

Juroah sat down beside him, accepting a cup of shallatus Lansha had warmed for him on their stove. 'She is as always,' he replied. They all understood what that meant. Mishta's petulant moods were nothing short of legendary.

'I should have ordered her to stay behind,' Goronak grumbled, biting into a slice of dried karrik meat. 'There's no need for her to be here. She clearly feels out of place.'

'You could have tried, but once Mishta makes up her mind about something there is little any of us can do to deter her from her course.'

'As long as that is all there is to it,' Goronak muttered, looking over toward where Mishta now shuffled even lower in her seat, the top of her head disappearing from view.

'What are you suggesting?' Juroah asked casually, but the look he gave Lansha showed he knew exactly what the Founder meant.

Goronak shook his head, visibly worried. 'There was talk this morning...many saw her enter the shelter with the human alone last night. You shouldn't have asked her to do that, Lansha.'

Lansha inwardly cursed his sister for pulling him into her deception, but kept up the pretence to protect her. 'I knew there was no chance of impropriety. Besides, since she is in debt to him it felt like the right thing to do.'

'That is not how others saw it…a hybrid alone with a male of a compatible species...Marmotah may have overstepped the mark this morning, but he had every right to voice his concerns. Mishta is distracted by the human, and she risks breaking our traditions if she follows through on her obvious interests. Perhaps it's a good thing that the human will most likely die today.'

Juroah and Lansha exchanged another glance. In truth, they'd both developed a certain affection for the human, albeit somewhat different to that displayed by Mishta. He was a likeable man, and it was hard not to form a bond with him. Neither of them wanted Sheppard to die. It was difficult to listen to Goronak speak of him that way.

'The human isn't dangerous, only his presence here is,' Lansha pointed out. 'He didn't choose to come to our world - neither did he choose his fate. Should we hate him for something beyond his control?'

Goronak fixed him with an iron glare. 'He's dangerous. Whether the fault lies with him or with fate is irrelevant. We should all remember that or we'll lose sight of our goal.'

The old Birajan bit into another strip of meat and aggressively tore part free, chewing it in a way that betrayed his anger. He obviously knew the truth of Mishta's actions last night, but was doing his best to pretend he didn't. He saw the human's death as an easy solution to an otherwise difficult problem he would rather not tackle.

'As you wish,' Juroah said quietly, but the look he gave Lansha made it very clear that he didn't agree.

oooOOOooo

Wanless pushed Sheppard into Akalus' chamber so hard that he barely kept his footing. But keep it he did, turning around and drawing himself up to his full height while facing down the huge bug to show he wasn't afraid.

A noise to his left caught his attention, and he saw a man beginning to stir on the floor. He had his back to him, but the clothing looked familiar, even if the shape of the man wearing them looked somewhat leaner than he recalled. His heart leapt. 'Rodney?'

The shape moved, and lifted its head to peer over its shoulder at him. 'Sheppard…thank God!' he said, his voice weak and raspy.

Wanless prodded Sheppard to silence him, forcing him to advance further into the room. Akalus brought up the rear of their group, and the door closed behind them, sliding into place with an ominously solid clunk of metal on metal.

Sheppard thought about trying to drop another of his concealed incendiaries in here, as they had descended a couple of floors to reach that room, but Wanless' eyes remained fixed on him so relentlessly, he didn't dare try for fear of revealing his tactic.

'I won't introduce you, as I know you've met before,' Akalus quipped, booting Rodney as he passed him. Sheppard tensed, clenching his fists. He wanted to tackle Akalus for that, but there was no way he could win with Wanless there watching over him. He would let that one kick slide for the greater good.

Rodney rolled onto his back and groaned, clutching at his forehead. There was blood oozing out through his fingers, something Sheppard hadn't been able to see before now. He seemed dazed and way too quiet to be his normal self. A quiet Rodney was not a good sign. It was most likely some form of concussion he realised. It was clear he'd taken more than that one kick. 'You okay there, McKay?'

Rodney groaned something incomprehensible in reply.

For a moment, Sheppard forgot his own safety and dashed to his side. His pulse felt strong, but McKay appeared to be slipping into unconsciousness, his face ashen even for the naturally fair Canadian. 'McKay…stay with me. Stay awake.'

Just then, another sound met his ears, muffled and distant, but distinct enough to recognise as a girl crying – pitiful and heart wrenching. Did Akalus have one of the other prisoners up here somewhere? Did he take pleasure in torturing them at his leisure? He lifted his head and tried to identify where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be behind the wall in front of him, but he couldn't see a way through it. Before he could figure it out Sheppard felt the floor begin to tremble beneath his feet, and the next thing he knew he was being ripped from the floor by the back of his shirt and flung across the room.

He collided with Akalus' desk, bouncing off it and collapsing to the floor. With the wind knocked out of him, he remained where he'd landed, gasping and riding out the pain in his side. He'd suffered a few cracked ribs in his time; looked like he was adding at least a couple more to that collection.

A tight grip on his shoulder rolled him so he could look up at Akalus' bulk crouched over him. 'Do you fully understand your importance in the destiny of our universe, Human?' Akalus asked, his voice now actually sounding relatively gentle in comparison to the violence he had just unleashed on him.

'I know what the Birajan prophecy says, yeah.'

'We carry a terrible burden, you and I,' the man mused. 'Our kind did so much damage to this universe in the past that we have no choice but to put it right.'

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at him. Our kind? 'Sorry…I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at.'

'The Ancients as you people call them, those with whom you share a strong lineage. They reached out their hand across this galaxy and tainted everything with their touch…and then, over time, that taint began to destroy everything good and worthy in this universe…everything!'

The whole building seemed to erupt at that point, rattling to the point that showers of dust rained down on them. Sheppard realised something then. This wasn't some kind of insane megalomaniac putting the universe to rights because he wanted to flex his muscles. This was revenge. Pure and simple.

'You lost someone…' he murmured, almost afraid of what the reaction would be. And he had every right to be, as it turned out. Akalus grasped him by the throat and lifted him off the floor.

'This is not about that!' he roared, sending vibrations through Sheppard's body that felt like they might actually shake him apart. 'Many people lost someone. The whole human race was lost. Do you not understand? Do you not care?'

'Of course…I care,' he croaked, trying to loosen off the armoured glove. 'But I…don't see how destroying…the universe will put…anything right?'

Akalus dropped him and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, choking in gasps of oh, so welcome air. He'd known the man wouldn't kill him – he still needed him, after all – but he hadn't thought he would get off so lightly.

'Because when I am done, it will be born anew and as it should be.'

Sheppard watched him walk away, his head bowed, not looking at Wanless as he approached the huge bug and stood motionless before him. Sheppard sensed turmoil in Akalus, the kind of madness that was driven by grief. It was the type of pain that could tear a man apart. He knew that; he'd seen his own father's soul destroyed by the death of his mother. All that had been left was a hateful empty shell of a man going through the motions. Perhaps their similarities made Sheppard ideally suited to reach him.

'That won't bring anyone back,' he ventured.

For a moment, it seemed even Akalus was considering his words. His head slowly lifted, as if he was really pondering what Sheppard was trying to say.

'And whoever you miss…I doubt they would want you to do this in their name.'

Akalus remained silent, staring at the back wall beyond where Wanless stood. The Kheprian, tilted his head to look at his master, as if wondering what he was thinking. It seemed even he had sensed a shift in the mood in that room.

And then it all shifted back again…and then some.

'The rebels have tainted you with their ideas. I never want to hear you speak this way again.' The room shook again, first gently, then violently as his anger built. Though he'd thought it impossible, Sheppard found he pitied Akalus. This was a man struggling to deal with painful emotions, not a tyrant in the truest sense.

'Truth hurts, huh?' he asked, poking at the open wounds of his captor's damaged psyche.

The room vibrated, and Sheppard felt pain building through his body again as his veins bulged. He gritted his teeth against the ache that steadily built into an agonising crescendo of pain and noise, every cell in his body vibrating so hard he felt sure the connections would break and he'd be scattered to the corners of the universe.

Again, though he didn't want to do it, he heard himself beg Akalus to stop. It was all he could do to get those words out between his cries. Akalus released Sheppard from whatever hold he had on his body and he fell forward, grazing up his already raw cheekbone as he hit the floor.

He lay there a while, waiting for the residual pain to die, not daring to move for fear his body might fall apart.

'You will learn to work with me, or you will suffer the consequences,' Akalus rumbled. 'This is our destiny – yours and mine. You cannot fight it, just as you cannot fight me.'

'Can't hurt to try,' Sheppard gasped, half-expecting the pain to start up again.

To his surprise, Akalus didn't resume his onslaught. As if tiring of their conversation, he announced, 'Hakkar, take both the humans away and put them in the cells, since that's what they both apparently want. Some time alone might help them both rethink their situations.'

Though Sheppard still didn't feel ready to move, Wanless grabbed both him and Rodney by an arm and dragged them toward the door.

Thankfully, Sheppard kept the presence of mind to force loose a couple of the patches from his body before he departed.

oooOOOooo

Mehra hurried down silent corridors, her heart pounding against the inside of her ribs so forcefully she thought they might crack. She was used to putting herself into potentially dangerous situations, but doing it in a place where she was completely outnumbered, injured and unarmed was a totally different story. Still, she got a kick out of this kind of thing, there was no point in lying to herself. She was sticking it to the man, and she loved sticking it to _the man_. It was pretty much what she lived for, whatever form _the man_ took.

The excess of shadows in the poorly lit corridors provided cover whenever she heard voices or movement approaching. Each time, she waited it out until they passed, but couldn't help noticing the urgency in their manner. She got the horrible, creeping feeling they knew she and Teyla were missing, and they weren't likely to let potential profit slip through their fingers too easily.

From ahead, more noises drifted her way, and this time they were uncomfortably close. The shadows wouldn't hide her; she needed to find an empty room she could step into. Hurrying through the darkness, she peered in through cell windows until she located an empty one. Shoving her key card into the slot, the door drew back to grant her access, and closed again before whoever was making the noise made her location. She wedged herself into the corner furthest from the door and waited for whoever was out there to pass.

Only a few seconds later, the door pulled back again and someone stumbled in, hitting the floor hard. The door slid shut again, extinguishing all but the minimum amount of light afforded by the tiny square window it bore.

Mehra pushed herself as far back into the gloomy corner as she could until she could figure out if her new companion was safe to approach or not. The figure whined, lying where he had fallen for a while, but then lifting his head off the floor to look around. She couldn't make out details, but she could tell the figure was male from the build and pitch of the groaning. She hoped the shadows in there were deep enough to hide her. She really didn't need the added hassle of dealing with a screwed-up human if he started freaking out on her. Best case scenario, he would fall asleep soon and she could let herself out of there without ever being discovered.

After a few more minutes the man pushed himself up into a sitting position, sighing and rubbing at his face as if trying to make himself more alert. His hair was collar length and straggly, and in slight silhouette in the light from the door she could make out some beard growth. He was dishevelled enough to suggest he'd been here a while, definitely not someone from her intake. So potentially traumatised…this might be a problem.

To her surprise, the man spoke to himself, and what he said was so easily identifiable she instantly knew who her unexpected cell-mate was.

'We are so screwed.'

Mehra's heart skipped a beat. She knew that mantra. It was a joke on Atlantis just how many times people had heard it and then they'd survived. She got to her feet and stepped forward from the shadows, where despite his scruffy appearance she could see her guess was right.

'Hey, McKay.'

The scientist almost jumped out of his skin, clutching his chest as if having a heart attack. 'Jesus! Who the…oh…I know you. You're…' He started clicking his fingers rapidly. Same old McKay. He couldn't remember her name. 'Masters…no Mercer.'

'Mehra. Dusty Mehra,' she reminded him.

'Yes…yes…that's right,' he squeaked, trying to smile.

She resisted the urge to point out she didn't need him to tell her she got her own name right, because she could see a stain down the side of his face and realised he was hurt. 'You okay?'

'I've got a headache,' he grumbled, confirming her assessment that it was most likely blood on his head. He touched tentatively at his forehead. 'Huh! I'm bleeding…oh, my God! I'm bleeding!'

'McKay…McKay.' He was beginning to panic so she grabbed his shoulders and spoke a little louder. 'McKay. Cool it! You're okay now. It's just a little blood. You're not gonna die.'

'You don't know that!' he whimpered. 'You shoot people for a living.'

'It's a scratch, that's all,' she lied, hoping the reassurance would calm him down. 'Head wounds always bleed a crapload. Doesn't mean you're gonna die. Now stop fussing.'

When the man had calmed down enough to breath normally rather than someone who'd just run the Boston Marathon, she started asking questions. 'What happened to you?'

'I was trying to find out what Akalus is up to and sabotage his plans. He found out. You can figure out the rest.'

'He's not big on resistance, is he?' she said, pulling the jacket out from her shoulder just far enough to reveal one of her scars.

'Oh, my God!' he gasped. 'How did that happen?'

'I stood up for someone. Apparently, that kind of thing is frowned upon around here. Got skewered for my trouble.'

'This is one seriously messed up world!' McKay squeaked, eyes bulging in horror and fear.

'You got that right,' she grinned, rotating her shoulder to gauge its flexibility and pain levels. Rodney winced for her and looked decidedly nauseous. 'Anyway, can't believe I found you this easily,' she told him, giving him a friendly punch to the arm that had him wincing all over again. 'I came down here looking for Sheppard. I had no idea I'd find you down here, too.'

'Well, you'll be pleased to hear I'm about to make your search even easier. Sheppard's in the cell next door.'

'You're kidding?' she gasped, her grin growing wider.

'No. The Kheprian guard brought us down here together. I saw them push him in there.'

She couldn't believe her luck, finding both of them in the same place. That would save her so much time. 'Great. We can all get out of here and head back to Ronon and Teyla, so we can find a way out of this place.'

'You know where they are?' he almost laughed, not something she expected from him at all. 'I've been looking for data on them since I accessed Akalus' personal files and databases but he doesn't log anyone by their names and all I had to go on was a numbering system. It was taking too long to try to decipher how they related to people to see if there might be some trail I could follow. I didn't know if they were alive or dead. I thought I was the only one of us left…'

His voice trailed off and she thought she could see tears glistening in his eyes, again, not an emotion she'd come to expect from McKay. Feeling uncomfortable, she decided to lighten the atmosphere. 'Well, looks like we both hit the jackpot today. So, how about we go next door, pick up Sheppard, meet up with Ronon and Teyla, and get the hell out of here?'

'And how exactly do you plan to do all that?' Rodney snarked, dabbing at his "scratch" again.

'Thought we might use this,' she grinned, pulling the key card out of her pocket.

His jaw literally dropped at the sight of it. 'You have a key? How did you get that?'

'From Ronon. And no, I don't know how he got it, either, but when we get back to him he can tell you that story himself,' she said, getting to her feet. 'Now, come on. Let's go.'

Suddenly, Rodney reached up and caught hold of her wrist, pressing a finger to his lips, signalling for her to be quiet. She listened. He was right to stop her; there were definite footsteps coming along the corridor outside the cell. He pointed to the back wall, silently suggesting that she lose herself in its shadows again.

Mehra did as he told her, leaning against that cold, slimy surface. Rodney crept up to the door and watched out of the window. Through the set of doors just visible from his cell came Geeja; Mehra recognised her from the cheerful little song she sang. A wonderful aroma wafted through the door as she walked past, making them both salivate.

Food.

Breads and warm meats, if she wasn't mistaken. Freshly cooked and still warm. The sound of a door unlocking and opening followed, and Mehra realised Geeja was taking whatever fantastic sustenance she carried into Sheppard's cell. Her stomach grumbled in protest at its own lack of calories. 'Food as bribery. Little creep's out to win his trust again,' she grouched, resisting the urge to go into Sheppard's cell and beat the snot out of her.

'Lucky bastard,' Rodney muttered, as they heard the cell door next to theirs close, and the mouth-watering smells disappeared.

* * *

 **A/N: I managed to get a chapter out on a Monday at last. Hopefully you enjoy it. Thanks for the reviews. :)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

 _Sheppard gradually roused to the sensation that someone was watching him. It was a feeling he'd become familiar with over his years in Pegasus getting knock out and waking in the hands of the enemy, but it didn't make it any more comfortable. He blinked the dryness from his eyes and allowed his head to roll to the left…finding Akalus standing right beside him._

 _Doing his best not to appear startled, Sheppard pushed up onto his elbows and glared at his reflection in the armoured man's helmet, his only focal point. 'Figured you'd show up soon.'_

 _The other man remained motionless, apparently glaring back at him in ominous silence. That was a guess, of course. The opaque visor obscured his face entirely. Sheppard's imagination ran wild with what Akalus might look like. What species lurked behind that mask? Was it Japhalan? He'd heard they were the closest to human's and he had a very human build to his physique. Since Akalus could possess other beings it could be anyone, or anything. Though not a Kheprian…or whatever the hell kind of species Kaliq had been. No way were those things squeezing their asses into that armour. He didn't know exactly how did this whole possession thing worked. Maybe there was some poor old man withering away behind that mask. Did he use his victims up until the body had nothing left to give? Had the Birajan female Goronak had told him about simply been lucky enough that Akalus had found a preferred vessel before his occupation of her body had drained her dry?_

 _His throat suddenly dried at the thought that perhaps Akalus hadn't merely been trying to probe his mind for information in the hangar earlier. Had he actually been testing his suitability as a host? Had he found the sickness that still lurked in his body and decided against it, knowing he wouldn't survive the process? Akalus needed him alive…needed his genetics for something. If possessing him could kill him, perhaps he'd been forced to change his plans…for now._

 _'_ _I know why you're here,' Akalus rumbled, his mechanical voice low and menacing._

 _Sheppard tried to play it innocent, keeping up the pretence he'd entered under. 'I already told you I had nowhere else to go.'_

 _'_ _That's not the real reason,' Akalus responded sharply. He extended his hand, holding something small, flexible, and identical in colour to his gauntlet dangling from between his thumb and forefinger._

 _Sheppard swallowed down the lump of panic that instantly caught in his throat. It was one of the patches he'd dropped on the way down here. Akalus really did know why he'd returned. He said nothing. There was nothing he could say._

 _'_ _Our sensors picked up several anomalous readings following the path you had taken since your return,' Akalus continued. 'Imagine my surprise to discover you lied about your reason for returning.' He dropped the patch to the floor, where it was immediately lost against the cold, damp stone._

 _Sheppard remained silent for the moment. The plan had failed. Akalus held all the aces. All Sheppard could do was wait for him to reveal his hand._

 _'_ _We found all the other patches,' Akalus announced, 'and returned them to you.'_

 _It took a second or two for those words to sink in. As his panic surged, Sheppard ran his fingertips over the skin of his inner forearm, feeling the raised bumps of several patches. He was wearing a massive amount of explosive. He tried to peel one free, but it was stuck fast – they all were. Aww, crap._

 _'_ _Thought you needed me alive,' he reminded his captor, figuring this was just psychological intimidation meant to scare him into gratitude when Akalus didn't see it through._

 _'_ _So did I,' Akalus admitted, squatting beside him so their faces were inches apart. 'But apparently luck favours me. The Kheprians returned from a recent harvesting mission a short while ago with a certain Dr Beckett. I believe you know him.'_

 _Sheppard felt the colour drain from him. This was bad…very bad. Not only for him, but for Beckett too._

 _'_ _So you see, I have no further use for you, John Sheppard,' Akalus told him, matter-of-fact._

 _'_ _You let these patches blow here, it'll take down Phylacos,' Sheppard warned him. If nothing else, Akalus might ship him out and away from where he could hurt anyone else._

 _'_ _Actually, they won't now they are not spread through the compound,' Akalus sneered. 'They're powerful, but with our security doors the blast will be contained to this level, perhaps damaging the one above and below at most. The bulk of Phylacos will survive.'_

 _'_ _And if the doors fail?' he asked, still desperately trying to worry his captor into moving him._

 _'_ _They won't…because your little band of helpers outside have already been caught.' Akalus leaned in, forcing Sheppard to move his head back away from him. 'Didn't they tell you I know everything?'_

 _Yes. Yes, they had. But he hadn't believed it. His heart sank at the thought of what Akalus might do to his new friends…to Mishta. They'd walked right into a trap and Akalus had no use for them. 'Where are they?'_

 _'_ _Somewhere they can cause me no more trouble,' Akalus assured him, before rising abruptly and crossing to the door. 'So, this is goodbye, John Sheppard,' he said almost pleasantly, clearly happy with the outcome of this day. 'But I am not completely without heart. I would hate for you to die alone.'_

 _The door slid open and Wanless stepped in, tugging Teyla along with him._

 _Sheppard's heart missed a beat. 'No!'_

 _'_ _But haven't you longed to see her again?' Akalus teased, and Sheppard felt sure he was grinning behind that visor, enjoying his horror. 'Now you understand why you should not defy me. But sadly, it is a lesson you have learned far too late.'_

 _Sheppard lunged for the door, just as Akalus and Wanless departed, but he was clubbed back and collapsed to the floor as the door closed, trapping Teyla in there with him._

 _He felt her grasp at him and roll him onto his back. 'John! Are you alright?'_

 _He scrambled away from her, knowing he couldn't put enough distance between them to save her, but feeling he had to try._

 _'_ _John?'_

 _He checked his watch. The time was 2155 hours. No! How could he have been unconscious for so long? He needed more time…more time to come up with a way of saving Teyla. He'd promised to get her back to Torren._

 _He darted for the door control, ripping at it until the from panel came off and exposed wiring and power cells within. He had no idea what he was doing but he tugged at wires and crystals until the door slid back._

 _He grabbed Teyla and pushed her to the opening. 'Go…there's no time to explain. You have to get away from me…as far away as you can.'_

 _'_ _John…I don't understand.'_

 _'_ _Do it for Torren,' he begged her, and pushed her out into the corridor. 'Go to the next door controls and do the same thing I did. Pull out everything that's loose.'_

 _With tears in her eyes, she nodded and ran for the security doors, while he backed up and pressed himself into the furthest corner of the cell. He checked his watch again 2158 hours. He hadn't prayed for years, but he prayed now for the sound of those doors opening so Teyla could put some distance between herself and his cell. The sound didn't come, only her gentle sobs echoed back to him. The security doors were harder to open. Made sense he supposed as he sunk down to the floor and pulled in his knees, waiting for the inevitable blast that would blow them both out of existence…_

The sound of his cell door opening startled John awake. It had been a nightmare, nothing more. Left exhausted by his encounter with Akalus, Sheppard realised he's slipped into unconsciousness almost as soon as his head had hit the mattress he was lying on.

His first thought was that it was Akalus coming to take another pop at him for real. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling the maniac had let him off easy earlier, despite how much it had hurt. So, he breathed a genuine sigh of relief when he saw it was only Geeja slipping into the room. She gave him a bright smile as she set the basket she carried down in front of him, taking the cover off to reveal its glorious contents.

'Master Akalus send gift. He reward you for returning to him.' Sheppard remained silent, staring at her and not taking the offering. 'What wrong?' she asked in her broken English.

'A reward?' he repeated doubtfully, pushing himself up cautiously from the mattress he'd passed out on into a sitting position. 'He wasn't exactly happy with me when we parted company earlier. It's probably poisoned.'

'No…he not do that to you,' she assured him, picking out a piece of fruit and biting into it. 'See…safe.'

Still wary, Sheppard fought with the urge to take the offering, choosing once again to stay put. 'He threw me across the room. Now he wants to make it up to me?'

'Maybe he had time to reconsider,' she shrugged. 'Come. Good food. Eat.'

Something about all this didn't ring true to him. And since he'd learned Geeja had lied to him while he was imprisoned here before, he wasn't about to take her at her word. 'Are you sure this is from him?' he asked curtly, still not approaching the basket.

'What you mean?' she asked, looking momentarily anxious.

He leaned back against the wall, drawing his knees up to rest his arms on them until his body was ready to attempt more movement. 'Well, one of you is obviously trying to buy me off. I'm just not sure which of you it is.'

Geeja fell silent for a moment, her large, brown eyes searching his face. 'I no understand,' she said innocently. 'Come…eat…good food. Help give you strength.'

'Will it?'

She frowned, sharply folding her arms across her. 'Why you being like this? I try to be nice, this how you repay me?'

'I thought the food was from Akalus?'

Her face flushed, a sure sign he'd caught her in some kind of lie. 'It is…but I picked it. I chose all the best things I find for you.'

Sheppard stood up on his shaky legs now and approached her, picking up a piece of fruit from the basket and casually tossing it up and down in his hand. She backed off a step or two as he kept moving forward. 'I trusted you once before, Geeja. You handed me over to the Reliquiae.'

She blinked at him and shook her head, acting puzzled by his outburst. 'I didn't do anything.'

'No? You weren't part of the plan Akalus cooked up with the Kheprians to get the Reliquiae here?'

'What you mean? I just help the Kheprians look after humans. I do as I told.'

He shook his head too, snorting out a laugh. 'Why am I bothering? You don't understand.'

A frown puckered her brow. 'I not understand what?' she asked.

'That you betrayed me,' he growled, biting back the invectives that teetered in the tip of his tongue. He let that accusation hang there while her jaw dropped a little and her hand rose to clutch at her chest. He could tell he was right from her over dramatic display of shock. She wasn't about to win an Oscar.

'I betray you?' She sounded genuinely hurt by the allegation, but he knew better than to trust anything that came out of her mouth. She lied to him over and over in the six months he'd languished here without compunction. He could never truly trust her again.

He pressed his lips together to stop himself from cussing at her, taking a deep breath before saying, 'Please stop repeating everything I say. It's really, _really_ irritating.'

Geeja looked sheepish and clamped her mouth shut, chewing her lip.

Certain now that she was listening, he laid it all out for her. 'I don't know how you did it, but you made sure Wanless gave me up to the Reliquiae when I specifically asked you not to,' he explained. 'He left me on the gantry where he knew they'd find me.'

'That was not me!'

'No? But the Kheprians only follow orders. I'm guessing you somehow persuaded them that Akalus wanted me on that gantry just when the Reliquiae showed up.'

She shook her head vehemently. 'I not know what you mean!'

'Stop lying!' he yelled, his continuing advance forcing her back against the door.

Her eyes grew saucer like with fear. 'I save you!' she screamed back at him.

At last he had an admission. He stood over her, panting with anger and pain from his aching ribs. He clamped a hand to them, supporting them as he turned away and limped back to his corner, shaking his head. 'I didn't want to be saved.'

He slumped to the floor, leaning back against the wall, turning the piece of fruit, something that resembled a plum, around in his fingers until finally deciding he couldn't stomach it. He let it fall to the floor beside him with a dull thump.

Geeja remained where he'd left her, pressed to the door as if fearing she might need to make a quick getaway. 'You be dead now if not go to Reliquiae,' she said softly, her voice tiny in the encompassing darkness and silence.

He lifted his head to look over to her, keeping his tone neutral. 'And I was okay with that, Geeja. I came to terms with the idea of death weeks ago.'

She looked utterly baffled by that notion. 'I not want you to die.'

'The decision wasn't yours to make!' He ran his hands back through his hair in exasperation. He supposed it wouldn't make sense to someone like her, someone who was healthy and free to wander the corridors of Phylacos. It wouldn't make sense to many people not faced with the situation he'd been in. 'So, what about the other lies you told?' he demanded. 'You told me you wouldn't help me escape because we were in a biosphere. That was crap and you knew it. And yet you let me believe it until I was too sick to have any hope of escaping.'

She dropped her eyes again, embarrassed by his anger.

He took a deep breath to calm himself again before continuing. 'Geeja, you told me I was your friend. Friends don't treat each other that way. Do you understand that now?'

'I wanted you stay. You only person ever nice to me.' He heard her sniff and figured she was crying. 'I sorry.'

She looked so sad that he felt his anger dissipating second by second. But he wasn't going to apologise – no way. He had every right to be pissed at her, and he wasn't going to let her talk him out of it. She'd put her own needs before his, even when he was at his most desperate, and although he understood that, he couldn't forgive her…not yet.

He got up again and walked over to the basket, snatching up a bread roll before taking it back to the mattress where he'd been sitting when she entered. 'Don't go getting the idea this makes everything all right, because it doesn't,' he grumbled, peering up at her as he took a bite. He pushed the mouthful into his cheek to add, 'It just means I'm hungry.'

She dared a small smile, but didn't receive one in return. When he said it didn't change things, he meant it. She took a couple of steps away from the door, braving his anger. 'Akalus treat you badly, but he sorry and want to treat you good now.'

'Oh, don't you worry. I know exactly what Akalus wants,' he assured her, biting off another mouthful of bread.

She gave a slight tilt of the head. 'What you mean?'

Another wave of annoyance washed over him as he recalled everything he'd learned from the rebels. He swallowed the dry lump down before answering. 'You knew about this 'end of the universe' stuff all along, didn't you?' he charged. 'You're one of the faithful. You think what Akalus wants to do is a good thing.'

'It _is_ a good thing,' she shrugged.

Now her child-like indifference that he'd once found endearing infuriated him. 'No, it isn't! Everyone living in our universe will die. Do you get that? E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E.!' He said the last word slowly and loudly, as if he thought it might help it to sink into his simple companion's primitive brain.

'I understand that –' she replied, matter-of- fact. Her expression showed no sign of the fear that thought should have evoked. Was she so brainwashed by Akalus that death held no fear for her?

'No, I don't think you do, because if you did, you wouldn't be so calm about it,' he insisted. 'Everyone will die. There will be nothing left. Nothing. No one wins in this situation.'

'Our new future begins through the act of destruction. All will be set right again.'

He couldn't believe it. The kid was clearly conditioned. He felt like he was listening to Akalus himself. 'I know that's what he thinks, the rebels who stole me from the Reliquiae told me.'

'You are a child of the Ancient ones who caused the chaos pervading the universe. You have the power to make amends for their misdeeds.'

'Hey, things may be bad out there, but trust me, there has to be a better way to deal with it than this,' he pointed out. 'I know Akalus has been filling people's heads with stories of rebirth and things being as they should be, but if he wipes out the universe that's it. If he wipes out the universe, no one's coming back from this.'

'No…that's right…no one will survive.' An odd, almost reverent smile had crept across her face as she spoke. The sight of it send a shudder right through him.

'What the hell is there to smile about in ending the univ –' He didn't finish his sentence. He let the last few comments she'd said sink in…the vocabulary…the syntax…the fluency.

It took her a few seconds longer to realise he'd stopped speaking. Then she gave him a puzzled look. 'What wrong?'

Sheppard dropped his bread to the floor. 'You bitch,' he hissed quietly.

'What you say?'

'I said "you bitch",' he repeated, just to make sure she heard him this time.

The cell floor trembled beneath him again as a frown clouded Geeja's face. 'Why you call me that?'

'Just drop the act. I can't believe it was you all this time. I confided in you, told you how down and ill I felt, and everything that happened to me was because of you.'

'I don't –'

'Stop it!' he shouted, getting to his feet, his anger now outstripping any fear he should have felt. 'No more lies. I've opened my heart to you over the past six months, told you my biggest hopes and fears, and you've lapped it all up, you heartless, soulless bitch!'

Geeja's expression changed. An unusual hardness came to her eyes, and Akalus shed the innocent tone of Geeja, to take on the usual menacing tone of her alter ego. 'How dare you call me such a name?' she rumbled, the cell now vibrating so much that dust began falling around them from the ceiling and walls.

In an instant, Sheppard's body verged on erupting, the blood in his veins bubbling as if he was boiling from the inside out. 'Because you deserve it, you psychopath,' he hissed through gritted teeth. His knees buckled, his vision greyed, and he spilled to the floor, down on his hands and knees and crying out once again despite his best efforts to keep it in.

'Must we go through this again, John?' he heard her ask over the sound of the blood pulsing in his ears. 'Did you learn nothing from your early rebellions? I won't kill you…I know you know that. But I can make you wish I would.'

Though he was literally folding up from the excruciating display of Akalus' power, Sheppard couldn't stop himself from firing back at her, 'You'll get what you deserve, Akalus, but it won't be what you want. I'm gonna make sure of it.'

And then the pain he'd thought was as bad as it could get got far, far worse.

oooOOOooo

In the next cell, Mehra and McKay heard the shouting and felt the tremors travelling through them. It was just like the vibrations she'd felt in the hangar when Akalus had questioned Sheppard. But Akalus wasn't anywhere near…was he?

'I thought Geeja went into Sheppard's cell,' Mehra said, steadying herself against the wall.

'Well, I don't know her name, but it was definitely a young girl with a basket of food,' McKay confirmed, almost wobbling off his unsteady legs. 'But this…this is definitely Akalus and he is NOT happy.'

'The girl you saw sounds like Geeja. She was always doing Sheppard favours. But you're right about Akalus. I saw the same thing happening when he got pissed at Sheppard up in the hangar. He must be on his way down here.'

Rodney looked utterly terrified and backed off to the far wall of the cell. 'Oh, God…He was right in the middle of beating the crap out of me when Sheppard showed up. Maybe he's coming to finish the job!'

'Get a grip, McKay,' she hissed, leaning her ear to the cold and damp wall separating their cell from Sheppard's. 'I'm trying to listen.'

The cell shook more violently, and they heard Sheppard cry out, evidently suffering as a result of the vibrations. It froze Mehra to the spot, the blood chilling in her veins. It was her job to protect. It was what she'd been trained to do. Every atom of her being was telling her to go to him. 'That's it…I'm going to help!'

'Waitwaitwait! If you go out there now you might get caught!' Rodney hissed, stopping her in her tracks. 'If you stay low you have an advantage, right?

'But he's in pain,' she protested.

'Sheppard's tough,' Rodney blustered. 'He can handle a little rough treatment.' The cell shook violently. Sheppard screamed out again, and Rodney's face dropped. 'Oh God!'

'You still wanna wait?' she demanded.

'No…I'm just saying things I know he would want me to say,' he whimpered, running his hands back through his straggly hair. 'This is horrible.' Then he seemed to get a handle on himself. She watched his expression change to one of conviction as he composed himself. 'If you get caught now you won't be any help to him. I think Sheppard would tell us to wait if he could.'

They both flinched as another scream pierced the quiet, Mehra's whole body tensing, ready to fight. 'I can't just stay here while Sheppard's being tortured.'

'McKay caught her arm as she moved for the door, send a shaft of pain through her damaged shoulder.

'Nononono!' Rodney insisted again, hanging onto her arm. 'Whatever they're doing to him, they'll stop soon. They need him alive…Akalus needs him alive.'

Mehra prised his finger from her arm. 'You don't understand, McKay. He can't take that kind of punishment. He's sick -'

'What…you're a doctor now? What do you think you can do for him, especially in your current condition?'

'I don't know.' Another scream from his cell pierced through her. 'That's it. I have to see what's happening.'

Rodney planted himself in front of the cell door, puffing out his chest. 'You're not leaving this room. I'll…I'll knock you on your butt, if I have to.'

She stood back and glared at him over folded arms, half-laughing, 'Oh yeah? You and what army?'

His shoulders slumped, and he seemed to instantly deflate. 'Please…I don't want to fight you. You'd beat me, hands down, we both know that. But you really have to think this through. You go in there, you'll lose the advantage we have and we might not get another chance like this to get us all out of here. I'm the thinker you're the doer. So, let me come up with the best strategy, okay?'

She knew he was right, but she'd never been one to put her own safety first. It went against her morals and principles to leave Sheppard struggling.

'Do it for Teyla and Ronon,' he pleaded. 'If we get caught, they're screwed too.'

And that struck the right chord at last. This wasn't just about making up for the guilt she felt over losing Sheppard to the Reliquiae, this was about getting them all out together. Getting caught with the key card in her possession would blow that plan to hell. 'I'll wait a few more minutes,' she agreed, relaxing her stance. 'But if this goes on any longer than that, I'm going in there to end it. Deal?'

McKay nodded, though it appeared to be reluctantly, and muttered, 'Deal.' But she could tell his heart wasn't in it.

oooOOOooo

Geeja released whatever grip she had on Sheppard, and suddenly, what had once felt like unbearable levels of pain now felt like sweet relief. He rolled onto his back and gasped air into his oxygen-starved lungs as his agony gradually subsided to no more than a residual body ache, something akin to flu.

'You see how much worse it could be for you?' she warned, 'You would be wise not to underestimate the agonies I can inflict on you without lasting harm. Is this what you want your life to be from now on?'

'If you think...this is going to…make me work with you…you're wrong,' Sheppard grunted, almost unable to speak. 'So, get the hell out…of here and take…your filthy bribes with you.'

'Bribes?' she said, picking up a leg of something that resembled chicken and examining it before tossing it back in the basket taking a bite. 'I have no need to bribe you. I can and will make you do whatever I want, given time. I actually thought you deserved better treatment for returning to me. Obviously, I was wrong. You still feel no loyalty to me.'

Sheppard dared to push up into a sitting position, finding that although the pain still came in waves with the tremors, he was already getting used to it. 'Not only do _I_ deserve better treatment, but every single human here does, too. You had no right to take your ships across time and snatch us out of our existences. No right. You're not a god. You don't get to choose who lives and dies. You're sick. Your judgement is shot. What you want to do is insane and won't fix anything.'

Geeja lashed out, punching his face to silence him, her strength far beyond what seemed feasible for her size and age. He didn't know what she was, but she was obviously no ordinary girl. She snatched him up by the hair, and the contact sent his body into a full-on frenzy of excruciating vibration in an instant. There was nothing he could do to stop it; his body wouldn't respond to his demands that it fight back, all he could do was lie there, his body burning itself up with the frenzied movement in his cells, and wait for it to be over. Geeja…Akalus…whatever the hell her real name was…had all the control. He had no way to fight back against this.

'You don't understand…you can never hope to understand,' the girl screamed in his face as she threatened to tear his scalp right off. 'This is beyond human vision or understanding. I see everything more clearly than you could imagine. I see the taint of the Ancients on everything around us…nothing escapes it. Their destructive touch is on everything. It's a virus…an infection…it has to be eradicated if the universe has any hope of healing.'

Barely able to breathe, Sheppard's vision began to tunnel. Unconsciousness…or death…was his only hope of relief. He was happy to take either right now, but she wasn't done with him yet. She wouldn't let him die. She would just keep torturing him this way until she'd convinced him of the error of his views.

'All you have to do is trust me, John. Trust that I know what's best for this universe. Trust me to reverse what has happened and let the universe be reborn as it was meant to be.'

Sheppard felt his mind begin to expand, as if someone had opened up a door in his head and it was spreading out into all the new space available to it. Akalus was getting inside his head.

'Trust me, John. Work with me.'

The words echoed and reverberated around inside his skull, drilling into his brain as if repetition would make them true. She was trying to brainwash him, playing tricks on his mind to gain his agreement. He dug deep, found some inner strength to push the pain back long enough to focus on holding Akalus at bay.

Apparently sensing her advantage was lost, Geeja snatched her hand back. 'How are you doing this? You will work with me or you will die!'

'Sounding…a little desperate…there, sweetheart,' he quipped, following it up with a little chuckle.

Geeja backed up. He watched her go, retreating toward the door, and as she went he saw the expression on her face shift from that desperation he'd spoken of to confident anger.

'I realise now I've been going about this the wrong way,' she stated, a smile curling her lips as she spoke in her now fluent and eloquent tones. 'John Sheppard doesn't value his own life above that of others. He would willingly die rather than let me do my work. But I doubt he would want others to die because he will not comply.'

He forced himself up onto his hands and knees. 'No…you don't want to do that.'

'No, I don't…that's true,' she agreed, suddenly solemn. 'But needs must.'

Her threat gave Sheppard pause. She was right. He would willingly give up his own life to thwart whatever idiotic scheme she'd been brewing up, but he wouldn't let anyone else pay for his rebellion. 'Don't hurt anyone else…this is between you and me.'

'And the rest of the universe,' she reminded him. 'I don't want others to suffer for your lack of understanding. We still have time for you to change your mind…there are still a few months before I will be ready to begin. Think about what I've said, John. Think about what you know of what the Ancients did…of what they unleashed on so many innocent and unsuspecting humans who were too weak to oppose or protect themselves. Think of what you and your kind did following in their footsteps. The dangers you awoke. All I want is to erase those mistakes so life can begin again. Is what I want so much worse than what you and your predecessors did?'

'This is insane,' Sheppard croaked, sitting back on the heals so he could look her in the eyes again. 'You're a human too. That makes you as guilty as the rest of us.'

She looked down at herself, studying her hands as if really seeing them for the first time. When her eyes flicked back up to meet him, they were black as night. 'If you truly believe I am human, then you're even more foolish than I thought. You have until morning to agree to work with me. After that, well, you know what happens after that.'

'Yeah…I'll sleep on it,' he growled, knowing that if all went to plan, her threats were going nowhere.

She left looking triumphant, while he remained on his knees and stared at the now closed door, trying to figure out what the hell he'd just witnessed.

oooOOOooo

Mehra heard Geeja raise her voice in the cell beside them. 'She's shouting – they're arguing. I knew that little runt couldn't be trusted. I have to go help him,' she insisted, trying to get to the door again.

The fabric of the cell shook around them, dust and stone fragments raining down on their heads and warning them that Akalus was very near. Rodney curled up and covered his head. Mehra hesitated, allowing things to settle. Much as her gut was telling her to intervene in the fight going on next door, her heart was telling her she would be caught by Akalus and waste a valuable opportunity. She couldn't risk it. Sheppard would just have to hold his own…for now.

The quarrel continued, punctuated by cries from Sheppard and then periods of relative quiet where only low conversation broke the silence. Maybe Sheppard had realised Geeja wasn't his friend after all. That explained the argument, but not the screams. Even if Geeja was working with their captors, why would she want to hurt him? And how could a kid like that make Sheppard scream? That didn't make sense.

Mehra leaned back against the wall beside the door, sliding down until she was hunkered down with her head in her hands. Closing her eyes, she told herself to hold on every time Sheppard cried out in apparent agony. It wasn't easy, it went against everything that made her who she was, but holding here was the strategically right thing to do. Sheppard was valuable. Akalus wouldn't kill him. But she was beginning to worry just how much of him would be left in one piece when they let themselves out to get him.

The cell shuddered again, this time so much so that Mehra lost her balance and toppled to one side as McKay planted hard on his butt. 'Jesus! Akalus must be right here!' she said, struggling back to her feet and cautiously peering out of the window. 'He has to be in the cell with Sheppard.'

The ground quaked again, and she was forced to grab the mesh grating in the window to stop herself falling over.

'I think you must be right; he's got to be close,' McKay whispered. 'How the hell did we miss him?'

In a sudden moment of clarity, Mehra realised just how close he really was. 'Oh, my God! It's her. It's Geeja. She's Akalus!'

'The serving girl?' McKay didn't look so sure. 'No, Akalus is much bigger.'

'And you think she can't pull on a costume?' It made perfect sense to Mehra now. All the pieces fit. 'That's why they're fighting. Sheppard must have worked out who she is. She's been hiding behind that metal suit the whole time.'

'That's why you never see him without the mask,' Rodney breathed. 'It makes her look more intimidating. Who would be scared of a kid?' A clunk rang out, and McKay leapt up pushing Mehra back into the further corner. 'I think she's leaving! Stay down!' The sound of Sheppard's cell door sliding back told them he was right.

McKay pressed his face to the window, effectively blocking Geeja's view of the cell should she choose to look in.

Mehra could just make out a glimpse of the girl's face as she stopped momentarily at their cell door. 'Don't think I've finished with you either, my friend,' she heard Geeja's voice growl. Her broken English was now fluent and impactful…impactful enough to make McKay take an instinctive step back.

Mehra pressed her back hard into the wall, trying to melt into it, holding her breath. If she could see Geeja, could Geeja see her? She hoped the poor lighting played to her advantage.

Thankfully, Geeja chose not to loiter for long and was soon on her way. McKay returned to the window to watch her go, staying there until he was sure she had left. They listened to several sets of security doors opening and shutting in the distance, before believing she really had departed and it was safe to move.

'Is it all clear?' Mehra hissed, creeping out of her hiding spot.

Rodney took one last look out the window, craning his neck to see as far as was possible. 'I think so. The passage is clear.'

'Good.' Mehra pulled the key card from her pocket. 'Time to see what's left of Sheppard.'

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for not replying to reviews yet. I've been wrapped up in re-writing aspects of this chapter and so I'll get to that shortly. Hopefully the changes were worth it and you've enjoyed this chapter. As ever, thanks to everyone favouriting, following and reviewing. Those are the things that make all the work worthwhile. :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Now he was alone, Sheppard lay back down and remained very still on the floor of his cell, not daring to move at all. Every inch of his body pulsed with pain, which was thankfully very gradually subsiding. The weirdest sensation of weakness gripped him, not the kind of weakness that came with physical exertion or sickness. This was totally different, a sense that if he moved too quickly he might actually fall into tiny pieces. He knew that, given time, he would recover, so he stayed where he was and waited for everything to return to normal…whatever normal was these days. He wasn't sure he knew any more.

When his discomfort reduced to little more than a dull full-body ache, he lifted his head to test his reactions. Initially, his vision swam, but it steadied after a few moments. That was a good sign; he'd thought for sure his brain was melting. Feeling braver, he sat up, sending another wave of pain and nausea coursing through him. Not so good. Even so, he chose to fight through it, deciding that movement was the best thing to help him shake off the aftereffects of Akalus' assault. He hoped he was right.

'Nice going, John,' he muttered to himself, as he took a few shuffling steps and promptly collapsed to the floor again. Okay, so maybe staying put was a better plan after all, at least for a while longer. 'You just handed yourself over to an insane psychopath. That was real smart.'

A noise outside the cell door caught his attention. For one awful moment, he thought Akalus had returned to dole out more punishment and her departure had just been a ruse. Thankfully, it wasn't her. Rodney popped his head around the door. 'Are you up for visitors?' he asked cheerily.

'How the hell…?' Sheppard said, his brows knitting in puzzlement. Not that he needed to know. He was just happy to see McKay was looking better. He'd been barely coherent on their trip down to the cells.

McKay stepped inside, with someone else he recognised bringing up the rear close behind him.

'Mehra,' Sheppard breathed, managing a smile. 'You're still in one piece.'

'Did you doubt me, Sir?' she grinned, squatting down beside him. 'How're you doing?'

'Well, better than the last time you saw me,' he assured her, accepting her offer of a hand to get him back to his feet. 'Although I'm starting to wonder if coming back here was such a good idea.'

Mehra gritted her teeth and let out a pained groan as he pulled on her arm. He couldn't help but notice the change of clothes too. And was that blood? Without thinking, he lifted the lab coat a little away from her skin and peered at her shoulder underneath it.

'Sheppard…what the hell?' he heard McKay demand.

'What did I tell you about not doing anything stupid?' he said, the angry red oozing scar of her reparative surgery obvious even in that murky cell. His own scars ached in sympathy. He still remembered only too well how bad that felt.

She shrugged, making herself wince, then gave him a sheepish smile. 'Got me out of my cell, Sir. Wouldn't be here now if it hadn't happened.'

'And I thought Akalus was crazy,' he muttered, letting the coat drop back in place. 'Just promise me you won't do anything that dumb again.'

She thought about it, then replied. 'Didn't you tell me I shouldn't make promises I could keep?'

He stared at her, her brown eyes full of life and humour, and realised her experience hadn't dampened her desire to fight back one bit. 'That I did. Just…try not to get into any more trouble. Okay?'

She grinned now. 'I'll do my best.'

He thought he could see perspiration glistening on her face. She wasn't in the best condition to be running around this place leading a rescue mission, but he was glad to see her all the same. 'What are the two of you doing here? How did you get out of your cells?'

'We're mounting a rebellion,' Mehra grinned. 'So, what's your excuse for being back here, Sir? I thought you were well away from this place.'

'I'm mounting a rebellion of my own,' he confessed. 'What's your plan?'

'We've got ourselves a key card, I have Ronon and Teyla hiding out in a safe place, so we're gonna go collect them and get out of here, biosphere or no biosphere, then come back with reinforcements. Yours?'

Sheppard checked his watch. 'I'm blowing this place up in a little over six hours. Oh, and there is no biosphere. Plus, we're sixty thousand years in the future, so no coming back with reinforcements, I'm afraid.'

Their jaws dropped.

'The sixty thousand years bit I knew, but…dial the rest back for me,' McKay squeaked.

'I got kidnapped from the Reliquiae.' Sheppard held up a finger to stop Rodney asking for details. 'It's a long story, Rodney. I'll fill you in later. So, I was kidnapped by some Birajan rebels, who were planning to blow up Phylacos with everyone still inside it because Akalus…or Geeja…has some crazy plan to destroy the universe. I managed to persuade them to let me bring in the explosives, in return for giving us a window of opportunity to escape with as many humans as we can round up before the incendiaries go off, but we're not getting home any time soon because the whole time-travel thing has kinda screwed that up.'

'Sixty thousand years?' Mehra said slowly, as if it was just dawning on her how enormous a leap forward that was. She punched McKay's arm. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Yeah, 'fraid so,' he told her, watching the shock register. It did, and then gradually she came to terms with it and began thinking strategically again.

'Is that really the scariest thing he said?' Rodney demanded, rubbing his sore arm. 'Am I the only one worried that we're going to get blown into a million pieces?'

'So, how do we get the others out?' she asked, ignoring the scientist's protests. 'We only have one key card and I'm not sure we can get through all levels without getting caught.'

'Thirty minutes before this place goes up, the rebels are going to fire up a disrupter that should take out all the power in this place. The doors will open, and everyone can take their chances.'

'Thirty minutes might not be long enough for some people,' Mehra pointed out.

'I know, but it's the best deal I could strike. They were going to take this place out without freeing any of us; it was a big leap to get them to agree to this much. They want Akalus gone…whatever the cost.'

'Whatever the human cost, you mean,' Rodney snorted.

'Well…yeah…we're not exactly high on their list of priorities in the whole "end of the universe" grand scheme of things,' Sheppard admitted.

But he knew some of them cared…Mishta cared.

'What about the miners?' McKay asked him. 'If you take out the power, the elevator will shut down and that's the only way in and out of there. I've checked out the schematics of this place and there are no other exits.'

Sheppard felt slightly queasy. 'Crap…I didn't realise-'

Mehra's eyes almost bugged out. 'You didn't realise? That's no help to them, Sir!'

'I know, Mehra, and I'm sorry!' Sheppard snapped, clutching his ribs again as they reminded him of his earlier injury. 'If there was some way of getting them out then I'd do it, but I don't now how to make that happen and I have no way of calling things off now.'

'Wait a second,' McKay said, clicking his fingers as he experienced one of his recognisable "Eureka!" moments. 'Where have you put these incendiaries?'

Sheppard mentally back-tracked his movements. 'The hangar at ground level, Akalus' chamber and pretty much every level between there and here.'

Rodney gave him a lopsided grin Sheppard knew meant he was about to deliver good news. 'I've had plenty of time to access information on the layout of this place while we've been here. Beneath the lowest level of cells and above the mine is approximately six hundred feet of bedrock. That should protect them from the explosions and with luck the elevator shafts, if they're not blocked, will allow oxygen to flow down to them, giving them a few days to survive and hold out. Then, if we can get just one elevator shaft powered up we should be able to get them out.'

'If we make it out ourselves,' Sheppard reminded him.

'I have the key card,' Mehra reminded him. We can walk out of this place now if we want to. We can collect Ronon and Teyla and go. We don't have to wait for the power outage.'

'Leaving all the other humans to fend for themselves?' he pointed out. 'You wanna do that?'

'So, we open their cell doors and we all make a run for it.'

'Except the key card doesn't open the doors to the outside,' Rodney announced, scuppering what had seemed like a potential plan.

'It doesn't?' Sheppard sighed, rubbing his aching forehead. This was all getting way too complicated.

'No, Akalus isn't dumb enough to create a card that opens every door in Phylacos. He…or rather she…made sure if anyone ever got their hands on one of the key cards, they couldn't make it all the way out into the open. There's another operation required to open the outer doors and only he, the Birajans and the Kheprians can do that. The outer doors function on biometrics so no human can operate them.'

'So, we need to wait for the power outage,' Sheppard clarified, putting them back on course with their original plan. 'We can't risk doing anything else that might alert Akalus to the fact something is going on.'

'Well…yes,' Rodney agreed. 'But even if the power's down, we still have to get past the Kheprians…although…'

'What?' both Sheppard and Mehra demanded at the same time.

'That three-armed guard – Hakkar – he told me the Kheprians are under some kind of programming instilled by Akalus via their translation devices. If we take out the power –'

'He loses his hold on them,' Sheppard finished for him. 'The rebels told me they believed the Kheprians had been compromised, they just didn't know how,' he added. 'This would explain it. So…Hakkar isn't under his control?'

'No…not anymore.'

Sheppard thought about how Wanless, or rather Hakkar, had stopped the other guard striking him in the hangar…and now he thought about it, his violence after the first month or so of his incarceration had only ever been when Akalus had been around. It had all been an act, and while he'd busily been trusting Geeja, Hakkar had been the one he really should have trusted.

'We need to find him – get his people to help us get everyone out. Akalus can't stop all of us.'

'Is that Akalus or Geeja?' Mehra asked, giving him a pointed look. 'Didn't I tell you that you shouldn't trust her, Sir?'

He smirked, wincing and dabbing at his swollen cheekbone. 'Is that an "I told you so", Mehra?' he asked.

'I'd never say that to you, Sir, but now you mention Akalus…or Geeja…what's going on between you two?' Mehra asked. 'I thought she was killing you in here.'

'She can't kill me. She needs me,' he assured her.

'So I keep hearing, but for what?'

'To end the universe,' McKay finished for him. 'I've seen the plans. He…she…plans to get Sheppard to initialise the shut down Stargate system and connect them to a space bound gate in close orbit to a dying star. When it dies and a blockhole is formed in a little less than a year, that gate will dial up and connect it to numerous gates at once, unleashing the massive gravitational pull all across the galaxy...'

Sheppard listened to his explanation, for the first time fully understanding why he had such a pivotal role in Akalus' grand scheme. 'Is that even possible?'

'Theoretically, yes,' McKay replied with a frenetic nod. 'I've seen his notes into overriding the safe dialling protocols that stop a wormhole from splitting so it can do that. And he plans to go further than that, using the immense power from the black hole to power the initiation process to connect to gates lying in other galaxies beyond Pegasus. He believes he can slow and stop universal expansion and use the gravitational pull of the black hole, amplified through dozens of gates, to counteract the effects of the energy still driving the expansion onwards. He wants to create the Big Crunch. The universe will be compacted to an infinitesimally tiny point…effectively zero…and then he thinks the Big Bang will eventually occur again, restarting everything.'

'And the universe will be reborn,' Sheppard murmured, realising the full impact of what Akalus had told him.3 'Could it work?'

Rodney seemed to give it some thought, his eyes bulging as his brain calculated the probability of success. 'If he can overwrite the safety protocols of 'gate travel that prevent the division of a wormhole between more than one setting…which is what he wants to do…then yeah…it's possible. The 'gate dialling and connection process would need to expand exponentially, but with the vast amount of energy being fed to the gate at the brink of the wormhole…it could have all the power it needs for that command to keep travelling. The protocols are there for a reason…without them, the gate system becomes a potential weapon of mass destruction. Even if the result isn't the big crunch, the effects on all planets within the vicinity of a connected gate would be catastrophic…we're talking ELE here.'

After a few seconds of silence while Sheppard allowed that news to sink in, Mehra said, 'I only got about half…okay, maybe a quarter if what he said, but I'm assuming this is really bad.'

'If you think that the end of all life as we know it is _bad_ , then yes, it's bad,' McKay confirmed to her in his inimitable way.

Sheppard noticed Rodney's eyes had wandered to the basket of food lying on the ground where Akalus had left it. He was practically drooling at the sight of it, like a hungry dog. Of course, he probably hadn't seen anything other than the mulch humans were served in this place for six months.

'Perhaps you two should eat some of that food before we head out. It'll help keep your strength up,' Sheppard suggested.

Mehra and Rodney exchanged a glance, then pounced on the basket. Despite their apparent desperation, Mehra thoughtfully made sure Rodney got the biggest share, obviously understanding his need was greater having been there far longer than she had. They munched away gratefully on the selection, only slowing when Sheppard reminded them of the two friends hidden away and waiting for them. 'Maybe we should save some of that for Ronon and Teyla, huh?'

Rodney brushed fragments of food from his beard and jacket front, looking guilty.

Suddenly an alarm sounded, and a voice that sounded distinctly Birajan in quality made an announcement.

'What's going on?' Mehra asked, unable to understand a word that was being said.

'Two female prisoners have escaped from the laboratory,' Sheppard translated, watching as Dusty screwed he face up and swore under her breath. 'Mehra?'

'That would be me and Teyla…We had no idea you were coming back to help us get out.'

'Oh, this just keeps getting better!' Rodney whimpered.

'Not your fault, Mehra,' Sheppard was quick to tell her. 'But I think it's time we found Ronon and Teyla before they get rounded up by a search party. They need to know what's going down once the lights go out. We'll just have to be more…stealthy.'

'Yes, Sir,' she nodded, frowning as she watched Rodney beginning to stuff as much food as he could into his pockets. 'McKay…is food all you can think about?'

'Like you said, Ronon and Teyla will need food,' he grunted, still filling his pockets. 'It's for them.'

Sheppard had to admit he was impressed with McKay for remembering them despite the new dilemma they faced.

'I hope they're still where I left them,' Mehra mused as she broke a bread roll in half and put a piece in each of her pant's pockets. 'If the Kheprians are searching the upper levels me and Teyla, they could be in trouble.'

'So, we start with where you left them, and if they're not there –,' Sheppard replied, but found himself interrupted.

'If they're not there, they've been captured. They have no key card to get out of the gantry,' Mehra said simply.

Sheppard gave her a grim smile and a sharp nod. 'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.'

'Yes, sir,' she agreed, swiping her key card through the door control.

He seriously hoped that was one bridge they didn't have to cross.

oooOOOooo

Akalus returned to his chamber, mentally exhausted by his attempts to prise information and compliance from his Sheppard. On top of that, he now had two missing prisoners to recapture, two prisoners who just happened to be connected to Sheppard – a complication he could do without. He wasn't truly worried. They couldn't escape. There was no way out of the facility without one of the Kheprians opening the outer door for them. But they could cause problems if left on the loose. And they still needed more genetic material from the female who had been brought in with Sheppard to create a treatment to keep him alive for the next three months. With luck, they would be recaptured soon so that the work could continue. If not, Dr McKay would definitely be the first one to take punishment tomorrow in his attempts to sway Sheppard's loyalties.

He slumped into his chair and looked at himself, the frail body he inhabited reflected in the polished metal surface of his desk. There was no point in using this pathetic disguise anymore. Sheppard had seen through it, realised that he and Geeja were one and the same, although he still didn't understand what exactly he was up against. There would be no more friendship, no more insight into his thoughts and fears. The man was strong again, and their relationship was back to its fractious beginnings. That was why he'd first created his Geeja persona. He'd known Sheppard would never open up willingly to someone he viewed as an enemy, but when it came to a harmless girl, little more than a child, he saw no threat and he'd eventually confessed his friendships and sickness, things that could be used against him now.

He rose and stepped away from his seat, mentally hearing Geeja beg for his mercy as she realised what his intentions were. He didn't listen, separating her brain cells in an instant and vacating the body he no longer had a use for, his shadowy energy snaking free of the corporeal form. The body slumped to the floor, reduced to an empty husk. There had been no point in keeping her alive any more. She was only a drain on resources.

He instead took up residence inside his usual armoured suit, the field within the garments giving him the presence and form necessary to face the lifeforms of this galaxy without revealing his true self. They wouldn't understand what he was…wouldn't be able to relate to him in the ways he needed them to carry out his preparations. What he was didn't even make sense to him. Sheppard would merely think he was a young girl hiding her true face behind a metal suit. That was fine, he could believe that for now. In truth, he was neither male nor female, old nor young any more. He was an essence…a memory…a tortured soul trapped between existences, and the plan he clung to was the only hope he had of ending his agony.

Once settled into his armour, he ordered his computer's holographic HUD into life, giving the command for the concealed panel in his room to draw back. He grasped Geeja's ankle and dragged her lifeless body into the small room beyond the opening where he had been keeping her prisoner for the past several months. Sheppard had almost discovered her, that was why he'd thrown him across the room away from whatever sounds he'd picked up on. The pain had distracted Sheppard from seeking an explanation. The room held a bed and basic facilities, and a bowl which he had filled with scraps from the meals the Birajans left to keep her healthy enough to serve her purpose as a host. No need for any of that now. He let her leg drop, left the room and closed the panel up, entombing her body there until he decided how to get rid of her. Her death was sad…he always felt guilty for his hosts when they had become useless to him. They had to be killed because they knew too much. He'd mistakenly left one alive once and now the Birajan rebels knew far more about his plans to end the universe than he'd ever intended them to. It made them a real threat, one he should perhaps deal with now Sheppard was back in his possession. He'd assumed they were impotent, but the fact they had taken Sheppard from the Reliquiae meant they were more dangerous than he had given them credit for. They would need to be neutralised so they couldn't try to take Sheppard away from him. Another addition to the list of problems that needed his attention, along with the Reliquiae themselves.

What had his life become, he wondered, sitting in his chair again. As a young man, he'd never imagined harming anyone, but now he casually plotted the downfall of anyone endangering his plans as if they were an infestation of vermin that needed to be exterminated. Death consumed his entire existence where once he had only sought to improve the quality of life for everyone in his once proud race.

A little over seventy thousand years ago, he had lived happily in Atlantis with his people. Life had seemed idyllic. He'd had a wife and two sons, and a significant role within the city's research department, working on alternative energy sources. But a threat had been growing in the galaxy, one he knew his people bore the responsibility for. Over their years of seeding planets, encouraging the growth and development of human populations on various worlds across the Pegasus galaxy, they had inadvertently created a monster.

That monster had eventually brought about the downfall of their supremacy in that region of space.

The war had been vicious and overwhelming. Every day brought more news of ships destroyed, outposts overtaken, planets' populations culled to fuel the Wraith and keep them at full strength as they massed on Atlantis itself.

His responsibilities had changed from developing power sources, to creating more and more powerful weapons. Always a pacifist, Akalus had struggled to come to terms with the change in direction his work was forced to take. He understood the necessity, but could not rid himself of the feeling that if they had just been more careful in their choices and decisions, this aggression would not be necessary.

He'd overseen a project at Doranda that had shown great promise, but had had to be abandoned when the result had been so unstable it had threatened to destroy a solar system. His superiors had then decided that they should try something on a far smaller scale. Replicators. These tiny, almost unstoppable robots were created to aggressively attack anything Wraith. But then they had begun to adapt beyond their original programming, becoming more complex and sophisticated than their original parameters permitted, modelling their appearance on their creators and taking on a new sentience of their own. Again, the project had to be abandoned, and the nanite technology was left on Asuras, finally being destroyed, or so they had thought, when it became clear they were building ships and planning to travel beyond their home planet.

After that, his team had begun work on a satellite weapon, one that could be powered up and would generate enough energy to take a Wraith hive ship out of existence. A gnawing, nagging sense that it was wrong of them to try to destroy something that only existed because of their own mistakes remained with him through the entirety of the project, but he completed the work, nonetheless. Numerous satellites were deployed across the galaxy, designed to take out Hive ships before they could reach Atlantis itself.

They should have worked…but they weren't good enough.

The Wraith had come in numbers far exceeding anything they had imagined even in their very worst-case scenario simulations. The satellite weapons only had time to take out one ship before another in the fleet fired on it and destroyed it. And eventually, the Wraith found ways to track their positions and destroy them before even one ship was lost as they continued their advance across the galaxy toward Atlantis. Almost all of them were destroyed. Those left were out of range before they could fire on the Hives again.

The decision was made to abandon the city…abandon the galaxy…abandon the primitive peoples they had nurtured and watched over to their fate at the hands of the evil they had created and could not contain.

The process took some time and planning. Their ships were loaded with everything that could be salvaged and transported easily, and everyone who could be spared left on the earliest flights.

And that was when the unthinkable had happened.

Akalus could still remember exactly where he was and what he was doing when he received the news that would change his life forever. He was in his laboratory working on compression ratios to ensure he could copy as much of his experimentation data before they had to abandon Atlantis and submerge it. His assistant, Almeda, had already packed and was due to leave on a ship that day, so he was surprised when he looked up from his calculations to see her standing in the doorway, her pale face a portrait of horror. He'd immediately risen from his seat and rushed to her, thinking she was ill or hurt. But when she'd gripped his forearms as he'd reached out to her, Almeda's huge brown eyes locking onto his with such sorrow and pity, he'd felt his world begin to slip away from him. He'd known what she would say even before the words had left her lips.

'There was an attack on the last fleet as they passed Manaria. Two ships were destroyed before they could fight back. Your family…they were aboard one of them. I'm so sorry, Akalus…There were no survivors.'

And in that one, simple message all life as he knew it ceased to be. Dea and his sons were gone…and the fault ultimately lay with their kind.

He couldn't move on.

He couldn't forget.

But his people did move on. Life continued in another galaxy, where they continued their experiments and began seeding planets once again. They had apparently learned nothing. He felt…uncomfortable with their new-found peace and continued tampering with nature.

As Akalus aged, the priorities of his people shifted. Material things meant less to them; the search for ultimate freedom and knowledge became everything. They wanted to ascend. Still burdened by the loss of his family and the weight of all they had left behind in Pegasus, Akalus found it hard to achieve the enlightened state his fellow Lanteans craved and ultimately achieved. Numbers dwindled, as one-by-one those around him made their journey to leave their corporeal forms behind. He thought he would end up alone until one day a thought entered his mind. If he were at one with the universe, a being of pure energy an enlightenment, he might be able to find his wife and children, wherever their souls had journeyed to, and be reunited with them. Lifted by that thought, his efforts bore fruit. He could feel himself letting go of his earthly bonds and expanding into something more…something greater.

But did he deserve that?

He had been complicit in leaving the Pegasus humans his kind had helped create to the Wraith.

And at that moment of realisation, something happened to Akalus.

He had started his journey, but had somehow halted before he could fully reach a higher plane. His body was gone, but he couldn't move on, trapped between planes. He was stuck in this half-existence, with no greater knowledge, no way of finding his loved ones, and no hope of shedding the guilt that had shackled him here.

And so, his incorporeal energy form had travelled the universe for tens of thousands of years, looking for his lost family, until he had at last found himself back in Pegasus, hopeful that he could find some way to put right what he had done to himself. Over the years of loneliness and dissatisfaction he had grown increasingly jaded with the universe. Humans wiping themselves out by interfering yet again in the natural course of things had given some sense of equilibrium to their existence. But still their legacy remained – a permanent stain on the universe.

That was when it came to him; his people had altered the natural order of things so the universe needed a reset if it was to have any hope of recovery. And so, he'd hatched his plan with the upcoming singularity and reawakening the Stargate system. He'd tried inhabiting bodies in the hope that once his energy was encompassed within a human form it would exert the necessary influence over the technologies his people had left behind throughout the galaxy.

It didn't work.

He took numerous hosts; some died instantly, some battled against him and died later, another cast him out and survived, but nothing worked. He had changed his state of being and couldn't return to what he once was. His plan had seemed doomed to failure…until the Kheprians and their time dilation ships had come exploring. He'd faltered and failed even then, but now…now he had everything in place that he required to set right the wrongs of the Lanteans. All he had to do was coerce co-operation from John Sheppard and Rodney McKay and they would set in motion events that could not be stopped. All would be restored to its glorious beginnings to be born again. Had he lied to the peoples of this planet to gain their trust and following? Yes. Did he regret that? No. This was simply something that had to be done, and better that they go to their deaths happy and ignorant than knowing their lives had amounted to nothing. They would not be reborn…he couldn't even guarantee the universe would be reborn. In a few months all would end, and with that end the scourge of his people would be wiped away.

And along with that the agonies of his guilty conscience that had tortured him for millennia would finally be over.

The peace he yearned for would at last be his.

oooOOOooo

After dodging numerous Kheprian guards out hunting for their missing prisoners and a handful of Birajan scientists, Mehra, Sheppard, and McKay made it back to the balcony a few hours later. Mehra opened the door and hurried in with her two companions close behind, all expecting to be reunited with their friends. It was with a heavy heart that Sheppard realised Ronon and Teyla were nowhere to be seen.

'Crap!' he breathed, running his hand back through his hair, his brain already running through what their next move would be. 'They must've found them.'

'So, what now?' Rodney asked shakily. 'Where do we start looking? What if they put them right back down in the mines? They'll be trapped when it's time to get out of here!'

'But they'll be protected, like you said,' Sheppard pointed out. 'We'll just have to get them out later.'

'What if they're not in the mines?' Mehra asked. 'What if Geeja is punishing them for trying to escape? They might not be able to get out when the power goes down if she has a hold of them.'

Exasperated by all the questions, Sheppard patted the air trying to calm them. 'We'll find them…we'll get them out,' he promised them. There was no way he was leaving without them.

'How? We don't even know where to start looking,' Rodney protested. 'Do you have any idea how big this pl –?'

All three of them jumped as thumping came from beneath their feet. They froze until they heard a familiar voice. 'You could start by looking under here,' Ronon gruffed. 'Only place we could find to hide when the alarms went off.'

Sheppard darted to the edge of the gantry, and looked over in time to see Ronon's head emerge from beneath it. He gave Sheppard a toothy grin, before disappearing. Next, he saw Teyla, looking grubby but happy, being supported by Ronon as she began to climb back up toward the rail of the balcony.

Sheppard reached down, extending his hand for her to grip onto as she clambered back up to safety. It hurt like hell to haul her up, but he couldn't not assist. Once she was on the solid floor, he reached back over to do the same for Ronon. As soon as the big man was on the gantry he pulled Sheppard into a bear hug, clapping him hard on the back.

Sheppard winced at the pressure on his sore ribs, but returned the gesture. Teyla's embrace when she got the chance was much gentler and lasted a little longer. When she released him, she took hold of his hands and dipped her head. 'It is good to see you, John.' He touched his forehead to hers in the traditional Athosian sign of friendship and greeting, drinking in her warm smile when they parted. He'd missed that sight over the past six months.

Then it was Rodney's turn. Even he looked pleased at the contact from his two friends, though normally he would have shunned it or pretended it was inconvenient.

The reunion affected Sheppard far more deeply than he'd expected, and he could feel the emotions swelling in the others too. They had worked together as a team for years within the Atlantis expedition, and each of them had spent the past six months unsure whether the others were alive or dead. This was a huge moment for them all, and it was no surprise that tears were shed and voices choked as they expressed their joy at seeing one another again.

Conscious that Mehra was somewhat on the periphery of it all, Sheppard stretched his hand out toward her. 'Good work, Mehra.'

She took it in hers and shook it firmly. 'Thank you, Sir,' she replied with a slight grimace of discomfort at that movement. He didn't correct her on her use of his previous title. It seemed petty to bother at a moment like this.

On their journey up from the cells, Mehra had warned them that Teyla had some memory loss. Thankfully, she now seemed quite alert, though after some gentle questioning she still appeared to have some missing time. But nothing vital was lost, and the most important memory, the need to get home to her son, was certainly foremost in her mind now there was a chance of escape.

Ronon and Teyla were soon tucking in to the provisions they had brought for them, squashed and mingled as they were after being crammed into such confined spaces for transport there. Even Teyla shed a little of her customary elegance to consume the fare as quickly as her body would allow. 'Where did you get this wonderful food?' she asked between mouthfuls, even licking the last dribbles of juice from her fingers rather than waste any of it.

'Sheppard's well connected,' Mehra said, giving him a nudge and a wink.

He laughed, shaking his head. 'A little too well connected.'

'I don't care where it came from,' Ronon grunted, biting into a chunk of meat. 'Tastes good.'

And that really was all that mattered. There was no need to worry about the reasoning behind the offering. They didn't need to think about that right now. The bribe hadn't worked. Sheppard had seen through the ruse and now they all knew Akalus was a front for a 'girl' to make her appear more intimidating.

'Enjoy it guys. We have a few hours to hold out until we can make a break for it,' Sheppard told them.

'Have you figured out a way to get us out of here?' Ronon asked. 'The outer doors of this place must be well guarded.'

'I have some friends on the outside who are going to cut the power in a little over two and a half hours,' Sheppard explained, checking his watch again. They still had a way to go. 'Hopefully, that'll cause enough of a distraction to allow us to get out of here…along with a few other humans if we're lucky.'

'Told you he was well connected,' Mehra reiterated.

'What's to stop Akalus rounding us up and bringing us back once they fix the power problems?' Ronon asked, tucking into something resembling a pear.

Mehra exchanged a look with Sheppard and Rodney. Risky as the plan was, they had to tell these two what the rebels had planned. 'Because this place won't exist in just over three hours.'

Teyla stopped eating and blinked incredulously at them as if unsure she'd heard them correctly. 'What –'

'I've planted explosives on several levels. They're set to explode at ten tonight,' Sheppard explained.

Ronon looked concerned, and lowered the fruit he was eating away from his mouth. 'What happens if we can't get out by then?'

'Don't think like that, buddy,' Sheppard said, giving him a grim smile. 'We have thirty minutes to get out once the power's off. We're on the top level and no more than ten minutes from the outer doors. We'll try to make sure we keep the doors open for as many humans as we can, but we _will_ get out.'

Ronon nodded, but didn't look convinced. Apparently, the food suddenly wasn't all that appetising to him either, so he dropped the half-eaten item he held back into the basket. 'How long did you say it would be before the power gets cut?' he asked.

'Just over two and a half hours now,' Mehra said, checking her watch.

'I hope we do not get found before then,' Teyla said softly, her eyes brimming with tears, though she held them back. Sheppard knew what was bothering her; she'd allowed herself to believe they were going to live, and now he'd thrown that into jeopardy. He'd taken a gamble with all of their lives. Had he really had the right to do that? Had he had a choice not to? Not really. The rebels would have blown the place up with or without his help. And if they'd done it without his intervention, there would have been no hope for the humans.

He sat down beside her, leaning his back to the wall below the rails. 'Hey! Let's not have any more of that kind of talk,' Sheppard said, gently leaning against her. 'When we were brought here, I promised to get you out of here and back to Torren – I plan to keep that promise.'

She nodded and reached out to catch hold of his hand, gripping it tightly. 'I trust you, John. You have never let me down before.'

A little embarrassed by the intensity of her emotions he did employed his usual diversion tactics. 'How're you holding up there, Mehra?' he asked, glancing up at her as they broke off from their exchange.

Mehra looked like she was about to shrug, but then thought better of it. 'Aches like a bitch, but it's not so bad. I'll be okay,' she assured him. He remembered the pain well, still got dull aches to remind him of it from time to time. He couldn't blame her for getting into trouble though. He'd done plenty of that himself in the first month of his stay.

'What are they like, these friends of yours?' Teyla asked.

'The rebels? Well, apart from most of them needing a sense of humour transplant, they're okay. Rodney'll like them,' he said, making Ronon laugh and McKay roll his eyes with an indignant 'Humph!'. 'They're good, honest people, and they don't like Akalus. That's all I need to know.'

'Do you think they will help us when we get out of here?' Teyla said, finishing off the last of the food supplies absent-mindedly as she leaned her head on his shoulder. 'Will they offer us shelter until we can find a way home?'

'I'm not sure,' he admitted, trying not to think of how much he enjoyed the closeness. He'd compartmentalised those feelings for Teyla when she'd become a mother; he didn't want to let them out again. 'They're outcasts themselves. They may not want to or even be able to take in everyone who escapes from here.'

'First thing we should do is find someone willing to fly us back to Earth,' Ronon pointed out.

Sheppard glanced at Rodney, who's expression betrayed that it wasn't going to be as easy as that.

'What?' Ronon demanded, tensing. 'What's wrong?'

'It…it isn't as simple as that,' Rodney stammered,

Sheppard felt Teyla's head lift off his shoulder to look Rodney was as he asked, 'Could you be more specific, Rodney?'

'It's a long story,' Rodney sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

'We got two hours. How much longer do you need?' Ronon grunted.

'Trust me. This is not a good time to discuss this,' Rodney insisted, pulling his knees up and hugging them to his chest, 'We need to focus on getting us and as many other humans as we can out of here. We can iron out the wrinkles with getting home another time.'

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the group felt less buoyant, more serious. But Sheppard agreed with Rodney's decision not to explain. Getting home was a hurdle to get over once getting out of Phylacos alive and in one piece was complete. They had to stay focused on that for now. There was no point in spending their last hours worrying about something they were never going to face. 'He's got a point,' he told Ronon, an indirect way of telling him to back down. 'Let's take this one step at a time.'

Sheppard glanced down at his watch again. 1918 hours. Could their luck really hold out for the next two hours and forty-two minutes?

Life in the Pegasus Galaxy was rarely that kind to them.

* * *

 **A/N: And...the team are all back together at last! only the small problem of an exploding compound to overcome now! Thanks to those of you reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter too. I may even get the last two up some time this week, but don't quote me on that! :)**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The buzz of a craft approaching from the east woke Mishta from her uneasy slumber. Sitting up, she spotted both Lansha and Juroah with their view enhancers aimed toward the sky, trying to identify it. She jumped out of the transporter and jogged over to join them, pulling out her own enhancers to see what approached.

'Can you see what it is?' she asked them, bringing it into focus as best she could.

'No,' Juroah replied. 'The light is too poor now. Even on night vision, the craft is unclear at this distance.'

'Should we hide the transporter?' she asked.

'Considering the speed it's travelling at, I doubt we will have time before it reaches us. Besides, I imagine they've picked us up on their scanners, and that's why they're heading directly for our position.'

'It isn't coming from Phylacos, so it isn't the Kheprians,' Lansha pointed out.

Mishta put her view enhancers to her eyes again. It was still impossible to see the detail of the craft, but as it approached its shape and sound grew more recognisable. After her recent encounter with them, it was a sound she knew only too well. 'It's the Diiro Koora. It's Reliquiae!' she gasped, the shock of the realisation momentarily rooting her to the spot.

Juroah, however, suffered no such loss of capacity. He sprinted to the transporter, hauling the disrupter off the seat where it had been steadily building power for the past half hour, and running back to Mishta with it. 'Here. Take this, Mishta. Of all of us, you're the one who will be able to evade the Reliquiae. You know what time to set it off. If they target the transporter and it cannot fly, we'll need your speed to get the disrupter close enough to Phylacos to knock out the power. No matter what happens to the rest of us, if you're still breathing, you must activate it to give the human a hope of survival.'

She clutched the disrupter to her chest, the device weighing heavy in her arms. 'What are _you_ going to do? You're not thinking of standing your ground?' she gasped.

Juroah turned to look at both Lansha and Goronak. They gave him a nod, drawing their weapons. 'Yes, I believe we are,' he answered with a grim smile.

'No!' she cried. 'We should get into the transporter and try to outrun them.'

'If that's a Reliquiae vessel, there's no way we can outrun it. You know their technology far outstrips ours,' Lansha said, laying his hand on her shoulder. 'And you know we have to stay in range of Phylacos for the disrupter to work. This is how it has to be.'

She shook her head, grabbing hold of her brother's arm with her right hand while still clutching the disrupter in her left arm. 'The human would not want you to risk your lives for him, not any of you.'

'You know that?' Juroah asked. 'You think you know him so well?'

'You said it yourself, Juroah, he's a good man. He wouldn't want anyone to sacrifice themselves for him. Please, let's get in the craft and try to outrun them.'

'You want us to run and let him die?' Lansha asked. 'I don't believe that's true.'

'No…of course not. I want you all to live. It's just…you know what the Reliquiae can do to you! We should flee towards Phylacos…set the disruptor off early. It would still give John and the other humans a chance.'

'If we run for the craft now they will pluck us off before we reach it,' Juroah insisted. 'We need to hold our cover.'

Mishta looked up to the skies, the sound of the craft now uncomfortably reverberating in her ears. 'If we stay this close they will find us anyway!'

'Then, draw your gun and do what you can to help,' Lansha ordered, freeing himself from her grip, 'but don't let that disrupter out of your sight. We only have to hold them off for,' he glanced at his timepiece, 'twenty-five Earth minutes. Then, we can run as fast as you like.'

Twenty-five Earth minutes sounded like a lifetime to Mishta, especially when fighting the Reliquiae. She looked up into the darkening sky, watching the craft getting closer, then back at Lansha, and nodded. 'I'll take care of the disrupter while we hold them off – you all take care of yourselves.'

They headed to a thick patch of scrub a hundred or so yards from their craft to wait for the vessel to arrive.

Suddenly, a bolt of energy shot from the front of the Reliquiae craft, hitting their transporter, leaving smoke rising from the cockpit. They all flinched at the power of the shot, ducking down further behind the scrub to hide themselves from view.

'I think you're going to need to get those legs moving,' Juroah whispered, giving Mishta a grim smile. 'The humans are depending on you.'

'I can spare a few minutes for you here,' she said, slipping her pulse gun from its holster. 'I may prove useful to you yet.'

The men exchanged guilty looks. They realised now that Mishta had heard their earlier comments about her presence being unnecessary. They certainly seemed glad she was there now.

The Reliquiae vessel was on their position in only a few more seconds, coming to a startlingly fast halt and descending beside the damaged transporter.

Five Reliquiae descended from the craft once it had landed, their rangy limbs carrying them gracefully across the land between the two vessels while they investigated the smouldering transporter.

'It's Birajan,' they heard one call out. 'Could be the rebels.'

'I can smell the human on it,' another shouted. 'It's faint, but he was in the craft sometime today, of that I am certain.'

They all huddled around the transporter, testing the air, and agreeing with their sister's assessment. 'The Birajan scent is stronger,' another said. 'I'm picking up three males, including the one of mixed descent we seek, and they've been here recently.' She savoured the air, a vicious smile splitting her face. 'We will feed well tonight.'

Mishta's insides knotted up at the lightness of their tone. They had been tracking Lansha. Someone he had dealt with recently had betrayed him; that was the only answer to how they knew about him. Her brother had never been much of a judge of character. Always far too trusting. And indirectly his naivety had led the Reliquiae straight to them.

She heard the others quietly prepping their weapons, knowing that threat was not an idle one. They had stolen the human and a large number of weapons from the Reliquiae, not to mention the two of their number they had killed. They would be looking to exact a painful revenge.

A couple of the Reliquiae straightened up, lifting their noses to the air. 'Do you smell something?' one asked the others.

'The hybrid. They are definitely still near,' another replied, scouring the surrounding landscape with her yellow eyes.

'Keep calm,' Goronak whispered to his companions. 'They don't know our location yet, and we are not too greatly outnumbered.'

'Can you lock onto the disruption device?' another Reliquiae asked.

Mishta looked down at the device in her arm, and over at the others. They all looked horrified. She needed to get that device away from them without losing it or they would be discovered before they could kill their hunters. She raised her gun and aimed at the females. Unfortunately, the Reliquiae would need to come much closer for their pulse weapons to be effective. At this range, they would barely stun them, and they couldn't afford to give their position away.

But none of that mattered, once their scanner locked onto the device.

Mishta held her nerve as best she could, as the long, lean females looked over in their direction and began gradually working their way toward them.

'Hold,' Goronak ordered, as her gun twitched.

She did as he told her, even though all her instincts told her to fire before they got closer.

When they were only a few yards away, one snapped her head in their direction. 'This way!'

Not waiting for instruction, Mishta let off a volley of shots to the Reliquia's head that killed the creature where she stood, but in doing that, she gave their position away; something they had known was inevitable at some point, but still created a panic response in all of them. Juroah managed to take out one more before the Reliquiae could react, but the other three proved frighteningly agile and launched themselves toward their hiding place with alarming speed.

One landed on Lansha, knocking him flat on his back. His head thudded against the ground, leaving him dazed, and the banshee on top of him ripped at his tunic to get to his flesh. The other two soon joined her, Lansha's half-human heritage too much of a draw to resist.

'Where is he? Where is the human?' one screeched. So, it was Sheppard they wanted after all, Mishta realised, and somehow they'd found out the connection Lansha had to him.

Mishta aimed her weapon, only to have it batted from her hand by the Reliquia closest to her. Goronak and Juroah were similarly treated, pushed back and knocked off balance in their attempts to help their fallen comrade.

'Where is the human?' one demanded again.

'Don't answer them!' Goronak ordered, scrambling for his dropped weapon.

Lansha screamed out as the first set of teeth sank into him. A red mist descended on Mishta; she would not stand by and see her brother torn apart for information. Dropping the disrupter, she pounced on the back of the Reliquia trying to devour him, punching and pounding for all she was worth.

The Reliquia reached back over her shoulder, catching hold of Mishta and flinging her away as if she were nothing more than a bothersome insect. She skidded across the ground, skin and clothes tearing, but she refused to stay down, remembering the knife sheathed at the back of her belt as she clambered back to her feet.

Lansha struggled up and tried to bolt, but two of the Reliquiae caught hold of him before he could get far. Goronak retrieved his weapon and fired, missing one by a mere fraction. She turned, moving in on him. Goronak let off another shot, but only caught her on the shoulder, slowing her for only a moment. Then, she was on him.

Mishta threw herself into the fray again, landing some piercing blows with her knife and freeing her brother, before the creatures once again threw her clear. Lansha now pulled his own blade, holding the two Reliquiae at bay.

'Go, Mishta,' he shouted. 'You know what you have to do.'

A cry sliced the air. They both turned to see Goronak having the flesh torn from his arm by the Reliquia attacking him. The elderly Birajan screamed in agony as the female consumed what she had taken from him right in front of his eyes.

In that moment of distraction, the other Reliquia disarmed Lansha, gripping him by the throat and lifting his feet off the floor. His legs thrashed as she choked the air out of him. 'Where is the human, Hybrid?'

Juroah rushed to Goronak's aid as Mishta once again dived in to help her brother. Much as she wanted to help John, her conscience would not allow her to let Lansha fall this way. She slashed at both his attackers with her blade, cutting fabric and skin until they could no longer ignore her. As one turned to rid them of her, Mishta leapt forward and slashed across her throat.

The Reliquia spilled to her knees, her sister releasing Lansha to rush to her aid. He collapsed to the floor, a clear handprint on his throat where she'd held him. Mishta pulled him to his feet, dragging him away before the other could retaliate.

Another scream ripped through their eardrums. Goronak was losing his battle, despite Juroah's best efforts to save him.

'Phylacos…the human is in Phylacos,' the elder sputtered while choking on his own blood. But if he thought the announcement would save him he'd been sadly mistaken. The Reliquia attacking him simply bit down and tore out his throat, releasing an ear-drum rattling cry of triumph as she leapt clear of him and she and her remaining sister sprinted for their speeder. In shock, none of them could retrieve their weapons quickly enough to shoot them before they reached it.

Mishta watched their craft disappearing into the distance. 'He betrayed the human…Goronak…a Founder…he betrayed him…our plan…our plan may be ruined…'

Lansha ran to their craft, clambered in, and began meddling with the controls, hissing as the heat burned his fingers. 'We have no power…I can't get it started.'

Juroah knelt over Goronak, his eyes closed, shutting out the horror in front of him. 'We cannot judge him too harshly, Mishta. The pain would…would have been unbearable.'

'He told us not to tell them…but _he_ told them!' She knew she was rambling – focusing on the wrong thing – but she couldn't think about what she'd just witnessed. It was somehow easier to be angry at Goronak than accept what had happened.

Juroah crawled over to her, grasped her face between his blood-stained hands and made her look into his eyes. 'Mishta…you need to take the disrupter. There's little time…run!'

Snapping out of her shock, Mishta holstered her weapon and began a desperate search in the general area she had been in when she'd dropped it, eventually finding the disruptor under one of the dead Reliquiae. She brushed blood and dust from its surface, relieved to find it was still operational. She snatched it up in her arms and rose to her shaky legs, trauma threatening to fell her before she could even start the journey. But the humans were relying on her…John was relying on her. She wouldn't let him down.

'Mishta…Catch!'

She instinctively stuck out her free hand and caught the thing Lansha had tossed her way. It was their father's watch. She would need it to time the activation. Thank goodness he'd kept the presence of mind to remember it.

She nodded her thanks and set off.

After an unsteady start, with the disruptor weighing heavily in her arms, the importance of what she had to do fully impacted. Adrenaline kicked in, and suddenly Mishta found strength she hadn't thought she could muster, her legs powering her along to cover the ground at speeds she had never managed to maintain for so long before.

The lights of Phylacos lured her on, a beacon in the dark and cold night. She refused to listen as her body began to tire – refused to acknowledge the burning in her thighs, calves, arms and lungs. A glance at her father's watch told her she had five more minutes before John was expecting the disrupter to activate. Five more minutes to bring it in range of the compound and fulfil their side of the deal.

She pushed on and on, her breath scraping in and out of her burning lungs as she fought the need to stop. Only a few more minutes. Phylacos was close, less than a mile away. She could do this.

As the watch ticked around to activation time, she collapsed to the ground a hundred or so yards from the building and hit the switch, silently praying that it would work as she stared at the vast compound in front of her.

The lights outside the complex flickered, then died out, enveloping the area in stifling darkness.

Knowing she had done what was required of her Mishta folded, dropping her forehead to the dusty ground as she wheezed and shook, at last letting the horror of Goronak's demise engulf her as she sobbed into the dirt all alone.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard checked his watch, waiting for the last few minutes to count down. As the time reached 2130 hours, they heard the sound of a lock click back and the balcony door slid aside.

They all held their breath, hoping the timing wasn't mere coincidence and they were about to be discovered. It wasn't, and nobody came through the door.

Sheppard got to his feet and edged over to the opening, sticking his head out. There was no one in sight. He ran to the balcony and looked down to floor level. All the doors into the hanger had opened. It looked like the rebels had done as promised. The disrupter had worked its magic.

'This is it,' he whispered, gesturing for them all to follow.

They gathered behind him and he slipped out into the corridor. The lighting cells still glowed, though duller than before. Whatever element heated to generate the lights remained hot and would apparently continue to give off light in a gradually reducing level until it failed. They needed to make the most of the light while it lasted.

Doors all along the passageway stood gaping. If every door in the complex was now open, they would soon be meeting others looking for an answer to what was going on.

In the distance, the shouting started. It was the voices of other humans, panicked and distressed, but hopefully all of them making the most of their sudden and unexpected freedom to begin making their way up from the cells.

'Sounds like we'll have company soon,' Mehra said in a harsh whisper at his shoulder.

He nodded. 'Let's get down to ground level and hold the door open for them.'

They continued on as cautiously as they dared, Sheppard taking point and Ronon on their six. They found a ramp leading down to the net level and took it. At end of it, Rodney pointed the direction to the exterior door, his impressive memory quickly working out their position and recalling the layout. Sheppard headed out in the direction he indicated, but the closer they got to their destination, the more uneasy he began to feel. They'd met absolutely no resistance, not even any of the Birajan scientists Rodney told them worked on this level panicking and trying to get the power back up. It was deathly quiet. Something felt…off.

He looked back over his shoulder, catching Mehra's eye. She, too, looked tense. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Casting his gaze further back he realised everyone wore that same, troubled expression. So not just his Spidey sense, huh?

The lights were beginning to fade, the shadows crowding in on them. If the place hadn't felt creepy enough already, now it was downright horror movie material.

Sheppard noticed something on the floor ahead of them seeping out of one of the open doorways. It was a dark liquid, slowly spreading out across the corridor.

He edged on, afraid he already knew what the blossoming stain was.

'Does anyone else think this escape is way too easy,' he heard Rodney whimper over his shoulder.

He glared at his frightened friend. 'You just had to say that, didn't you?' he whispered through gritted teeth.

Sheppard edged on, then gave the hold signal and pressed himself to the wall at the side of the door, very carefully poking his head around the frame to look inside. It was hard to see anything clearly as the light was now all but gone, but he thought he saw a Birajan lying on the floor near the opening, his head only a couple of feet inside the door right in the middle of the dark pool. It was only after his eyes had taken a few more seconds to adjust that he realised it was only a Birajan's head…the body lay several feet further back in the room in multiple pieces.

'What the hell?' he breathed, gooseflesh raising all over his body.

A hiss from within the room, deep and throaty, made his blood run cold. No way. It couldn't be…

A flicker of movement from a dark shape crouched beside a piece of the Birajan made him snap his head back and yell, 'Go! Run!' just as another form leapt out of a doorway ahead of them.

Rodney didn't need to be told twice. Teyla and Mehra were hot on his heels. Ronon, though, hung back long enough to grab Sheppard and haul him out of the way just as a long, thin arm shot around the corner of the doorframe and made a grab for him.

Ronon shoved him out in front of him, pushing him along. It was clear he knew just as well as Sheppard did what he'd seen coming out of those rooms and if they didn't find something with which they could fight back they were as good as dead.

Sheppard heard Ronon cry out, a mixture of pain and rage, and turned to see one of the Reliquiae on his back and trying to topple him. Sheppard did the only thing he could think of that might save his friend. He ran straight at them, hoping that the idea of catching him would cause a big enough distraction to make her let go. He bowled into her, feeling her long, spindly arms wrap around him and grasp him as they both fell to the floor.

The other one was swiftly on him, the two of them ripping him up from the floor in a way that aggravated his already painful body. But he fought hard to stay right there, yanking his arm from their grip despite the talons digging into his skin and tearing deep scratches down his left forearm to his wrist. He swung a punch that connected hard enough to knock one of the females sideways, while the other ripped the neck of his t-shirt apart and bit down on his shoulder. When Ronon pulled her off him she took a chunk of flesh along with her, leaving a wound that began to ooze dark blood, only making his scent all the easier to follow, along with the visible trail he would undoubtedly spill.

Ronon got him up and running again, only stopping long enough to deliver a forearm slam as the first Reliquia rose. The building shook, a warning that Akalus was angry, which probably meant he was looking for them too, and the willowy Reliquiae struggled to maintain their footing while Sheppard and Ronon struggled on, using hands, knees and feet to keep themselves mobile as the building threatened to shake itself apart before the explosion did it for them.

But they couldn't put enough distance between themselves and the Reliquiae to lose them. They bolted, sticking to the corridors, not daring to dive into a side room for fear of becoming trapped. They began to encounter Birajans at these lower levels, the little scientists babbling and trying to apprehend them. Sheppard briefly realised he couldn't understand them, the disruptor having fried his translator too as they bowled them aside in their desperation to escape their pursuers.

The Reliquiae made even shorter work of them once they were upon them.

Then Sheppard could hear more voices ahead…human voices, distant, but not too far away. They were leading the Reliquiae straight to a smorgasbord of newly liberated human delicacies. He slowed, Ronon yelling at him to keep going, but Sheppard knew he was the only one of them who could stop and not be killed. He couldn't knowingly expose a whole bunch of traumatised humans to the horrors of the Reliquiae if he could prevent it. He wouldn't sacrifice them to save himself.

Their sharp claws were on him in seconds, long fingers wrapping around his arms and lifting him off his feet as they began to haul him back the way they'd come. That was the moment Teyla and Mehra chose to strike, leaping out of one of the side rooms they'd concealed themselves in while Ronon and Sheppard had struggled with the two females, and thrashing at them with the various medical implements they'd snatched up. Blades and claws sliced, but eventually they drove the two Reliquiae back, Ronon taking a flying kick at one and bowling her into the other. They toppled like skittles, stunned and bloodied, but healing fast from their recent feed. Sheppard was up and running full tilt toward the others before the females even knew what had hit them.

But still the Reliquiae rose again.

'You've got to be kidding me!' Sheppard breathed, as the now almost none existent light illuminated them launching themselves in their direction for another attack.

And then the lights came on and a set of security doors slammed shut between them.

oooOOOooo

Akalus became self-aware again in a blur of confusion. His chamber was almost pitch black. The power was out? Did that mean…?

He seeped through various levels of the compound, wasting no time following corridors and stairways, his shadow energy arriving in Sheppard's now empty cell. The door was wide open, and when he billowed out into the passageway outside he saw all the others were too. All of his prisoners, including Sheppard and McKay, were missing.

His rage, uncontained by body or armour now, penetrated everything and shook Phylacos to its very foundations and down beyond them. He couldn't let Sheppard get away, but neither could he afford to lose McKay. There was still so much work to do.

The complex was huge, they could be hiding anywhere, if not already outside. He began to search, blasting through rooms, corridors and passageways, and even humans who stood in his way. He cared nothing for anyone else; he needed those men…Sheppard most of all.

Kheprian guards littered the compound, confused and disoriented. His code had failed, they were free of his command. But where were his Birajans? Why was no one restoring power?

Even as he thought that, the lights flashed back on around him and the sound of doors thumping closed filled the base. Terrified humans screamed in despair to find themselves trapped again when escape had only minutes ago seemed like a very real possibility.

With any luck, the two men were still within the compound. They'd had quite a distance to cover from their cells to the surface. He filtered back into his suit to enable him to get his holographic HUD back on line and began to scour surveillance. He swiped through feed after feed, with nothing showing up to capture his interest, until finally something he hadn't expected showed up.

Two levels down from his chamber, two Reliquiae pounded a security door, trying to get through it. And suddenly the facility's loss of power made a lot more sense to him…

oooOOOooo

Under the light of the distant moon, Mishta lay back and slowly felt her heartbeat return to normal. The run had been the physically hardest challenge she'd ever been set, but she had made it. Now all she could do was lie back and wait for John to emerge. She refused to think about the alternative.

Closing her eyes, Mishta thought back to the previous evening. She felt foolish now for approaching John the way she had. He'd given very little sign of being interested in getting to know her better…other than a few appreciative looks she thought she'd caught…but she was by no means an expert in human behaviours. She'd spent most of her life denying her own inherited traits. What did she know or care of what humans thought?

That had begun to change when she'd met John, though. Once she'd allowed herself to see through the terrible mantle he carried through no fault of his own, she'd realised he was a warm, caring soul. One who would do anything to help others – even those who didn't deserve his kindness.

And she really hadn't deserved it.

Why had she thought he would ever want her attentions? He thought she was pretty, that was all, and she'd allowed her own feelings for him to blow it up into something far more than he had in mind. Those looks didn't mean he'd wanted anything more that to enjoy her appearance. Perhaps he even had a human back home he longed to return to, someone she perhaps reminded him of. She'd never even asked if that was the case.

She opened her eyes again, gazing up at the stars, and noticed something from the corner of her eye.

Lights.

She instantly flipped over onto her stomach to see the lights in Phylacos had come back on. She pulled out her view enhancers and set them to night vision. The external doors, which had a short while ago stood open, were now closed. Power had been restored.

'No!' she gasped, dropping her enhancers and checking the disrupter. The power gauge read ninety-two percent, and the fail-safe wouldn't let her fire it a second time until it had built back up to one hundred percent. 'No, no, no! Come on. Hurry up!'

As if that wasn't bad enough, she now became aware of an engine drone over the sound of the powering machine. She shrugged off her jacket despite the bitter cold and covered the machine to ensure none of the lights and displays indicating its processes could be seen, then she snatched it up and scurried over to the nearest clump of shrubs to hide herself away from prying eyes. Of course, if it were the Reliquiae again, she was doomed to failure; either they would find her with the device and she would be killed, or she would have to abandon the machine and leave all the humans in Phylacos to die. She flattened herself out behind the scrub and waited, knowing her conscience would never allow her to leave her post. Her best hope was that this was a small troop of bandits, looking for someone to rob. What had her life come to when that was seemingly her best option?

The vessel flew slowly and with a noticeable rolling motion whenever it adjusted its course. If she'd had her view enhancers with her she would have tried to get a better look, but she'd dropped them before gathering up the disruptor and scrambling to her hiding place and they now lay out of reach. But it didn't seem to be a Reliquiae vessel. She could hear engine misfires and decelerations followed by urgent accelerations that seemed to strain the engine to its limits. It sounded like a craft that would be lucky to reach her.

It appeared her assessment was right when the craft set down with an ungainly thud some hundred yards away from her. A figure leapt out over the side and stood a while not moving. It was only when the lights of Phylacos reflected off them that she realised the new arrival was scouring the landscape through a set of view enhancers.

'Mishta!'

She recognised her brother's voice instantly and broke cover, bolting toward him and taking the disrupter with her.

She threw her free arm around his neck and drew him into a hug, much against her nature. But the relief that he had found her and she was no longer alone out here had her practically in tears. Lansha was always the clear thinker of the two of them. He would know what to do.

'What happened?' he asked, peeling her off him. 'Did the disruptor not work?'

'It did…for a while. But the lights came back on a few minutes ago.'

'Auxiliary power!' Lansha breathed. 'I should have thought of that. Where's the disruptor?'

She uncovered it and passed it to him, grateful to be able to pull her coat back on. Its benefit was instant against the cold night air as she fastened it up high under her chin. 'Where's Juroah?'

'In the craft…resting.'

She noticed the odd pause and that her brother's attention seemed oddly hyper-focused on the disruptor as he answered, and there was a tone to that last word that sounded off to her. Her heart sank, and she ran the few yards to the craft with her brother calling her back to him. She ignored his cries and jumped on board, finding Juroah unconscious in the passenger seat.

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him sharply. 'Juroah?'

His head lolled and he looked like he tried to open his eyes, but the fractional movement soon gave way to the insistence of his heavy lids.

Lansha climbed up beside her, dropping the disruptor into the pilot's seat. 'He became lethargic as he helped me fix the craft.' He pulled Juroah's heavy coat open and revealed a large, dark stain on his grey tunic. 'He must have been injured while trying to save Goronak. He never said anything…I didn't realise until he passed out.'

Panic surged in Mishta. She shook Juroah again and pleaded for him to wake. He groaned, but didn't rouse. Mishta was suddenly swept up in a tornado of emotions swirling from anger to horror to desolation, yelling, begging and sobbing for her mentor not to leave her. She clung onto him, burying her head into his neck and whispered, 'Please wake up.'

Lansha stroked her back, letting her cry it out. There was nothing he could say to ease this pain, and he seemed to know that.

'I'll limp the craft closer,' she heard him tell her. 'The device is at ninety-seven percent charge. Let's get it as close as we can to give John a fighting chance.'

She nodded. Sitting up a little and scrubbing her tears away on her sleeve. 'Juroah wanted John to live. Let's make it happen.'

She slipped her gun from its holster and urged her brother to go in as close as he dared.

oooOOOooo

'What should we do now?' Teyla asked, looking hot and fatigued already.

Rodney jumped at the sound of the solid thump right behind him on the barrier keeping the Reliquiae at bay. 'We still need to get out, and out is that way,' he said, thumbing back at the doors.

'I hate to point out the obvious,' Sheppard replied, jumping a little himself as another, heavier thump rang out, 'But we can't go that way. There has to be an alternate route.'

The two Reliquiae on the other side of the door hissed and screeched, but stopped their pounding, choosing instead to start up scratching at the metal, a noise that instantly set Sheppard's teeth on edge.

'Urgh! How am I supposed to think with all this noise!' Rodney demanded.

Ronon just glared down at him. 'McKay!'

'All right…all right. Er…there's air ducting…I figure we're all thin enough to slide through it thanks to the inedible rations in this place. There's an access hatch one level down.'

'Down,' Mehra whined. 'We're supposed to be going up.'

'And this place in gonna blow in,' Sheppard checked his watch, 'a little over seventeen minutes. So, give him your key card and let's move.'

Rodney led the way, impatiently waiting as doors slowly reacted to the key card command. At one set of doors they even found a half-dozen humans on the other side of it who had made it this far from the lower levels before the doors had closed on them, most likely the people Sheppard had heard earlier. Though they were initially reluctant to turn back, Teyla worked her magic and calmly persuaded them that their best chance of escape was to follow them, even if it seemed to be taking them in the wrong direction.

The corridor began leading downwards, taking them toward the access hatch. The next set of doors opened more quickly to Sheppard's relief, until he realised that every door down the corridor beyond was now standing open, too.

Rodney turned, his face pale and slack with horror. 'I didn't do that.'

Sheppard looked up to the ceiling; though they still had light, the incessant buzz of the lighting cells had died.

'Power's off again,' Ronon grunted.

A shriek and hiss came echoing down the corridor toward them.

Sheppard felt his legs almost buckle at the realisation of what was heading their way. The adrenalin took over. 'Go!'

They began running full pelt again, the humans they'd collected on their way falling behind. These weren't people with military training to give them a level of fitness to fall back on despite their ill treatment. These were just ordinary men and women, and much as Ronon, Sheppard, Teyla and Mehra tried to drag them along, they could hear their pursuers gaining with every pace.

The young man Mehra had hold of was the first to fall, literally tripping and hitting the floor hard. When Mehra attempted to go back to him, the Reliquiae rounded the corner behind them. The lead female snatched up the ankle of the poor man and dragged him back as if he was as light as a feather. Sheppard grabbed Mehra and told her to run, hearing the screams and tearing as the Reliquiae feasted to build their strength and speed for the pursuit.

The next turn they rounded brought them face to face with five Kheprians. They all skidded to a halt, not knowing what to expect. Both directions were now blocked. Time to choose the lesser of two evils.

Sheppard ploughed on, gritting his teeth against the pain in his cracked ribs as he bowled two Kheprians aside and kept going, hoping everyone was still following him. When he rounded the corner ahead he collided with something huge and solid that sent him crashing against the wall and sliding to the floor. Before he could recover his senses, he felt the distinctive pressure of a pincer-like hand grab his throat and lift him up.

Wanless squawked something incomprehensible, lifting him from the ground.

Sheppard struggled to relieve the pressure on his throat to answer, but couldn't budge the claw.

'Hakkar…wait…you need to help us,' Rodney yelled. 'We all have to get out of this base in the next –'

'Eighteen minutes,' Sheppard helpfully croaked, just able to see his watch.

'Yes, eighteen minutes or we are all gonna die. But there are two –'

The sound of a Kheprian screech ripped through the air toward them, drawn out and agonised. Hakkar dropped Sheppard instantly and headed in the direction of the sound.

Sheppard staggered to his feet and threw himself in front of the alien. 'There are two Reliquiae coming after us. We need weapons if you want to stop them. Do you understand? Weapons?'

He had no way of knowing if the bug could understand or would help if he did, but they had to take a chance.

'My men…confused...Not know where to go. Need my help,' Hakkar screeched in the broken English he'd learned to communicate with the prisoners.

'You wanted your people free, Hakkar. This is your chance,' Rodney yelled at him. 'The signal keeping them loyal to Akalus is down, just like you wanted. But you can't help them if you're dead. The Reliquiae are feeding…gaining strength. We need weapons to have any hope of beating them and getting out of here.'

Hakkar processed that, then paused a second longer, stalled by the sound of another Kheprian scream. Though clearly torn between going to assist and forming an effective battle plan, he eventually turned and ran the other way. 'Follow me.'

Since only Sheppard and McKay understood what he'd said they had to set the others on his tail. As they ran, Hakkar collected other confused looking Kheprians squawking something that had to be an order to follow him, which they didn't question. The familiarity of orders from someone they trusted seemed to help the confused creatures focus.

Abruptly, Hakkar ducked into a side room, and before the humans could catch up with the long-limbed aliens, he was tossing weapons out of the door for his men to catch, huge heavy guns that they immediately activated. The sound of their weapons powering up was almost reassuring, until the sound of hissing came up close behind them.

Mehra was knocked aside as she turned to intercept the Reliquia heading Sheppard's way. One of Hakkar's men unleashed a powerful blast from his weapon that blew the female several yards back down the passageway. As the Kheprians kept shooting, holding them at bay, Hakkar passed out smaller, more physically manageable guns to the humans, Birajan guns Sheppard realised as he took hold of one. It looked just like the one Lansha had loaned him at the caves.

Strengthened by their recent meal, the Reliquiae kept advancing despite the energy blasts hitting them every few seconds. Now expecting the shots, they were able to withstand the shocks so they were beaten back less each time. The Kheprians took point, holding them back as best they could, weakening them with their powerful energy weapons, but the monsters kept advancing until they climbed and brawled their way past the huge bug men and leapt for the humans. They then fired their smaller weapons, but they had little effect. The Reliquiae floored another of the stray human males they'd picked up and began slashing at him, lacerating his body, drinking up his blood for a power snack until it stained their hands and faces; then they forged on.

Sheppard remembered what Mishta had told him in the caves. The weapons were only lethal if you hit your mark in the head or chest. One shot might not be enough, but concentrated firing in one of those areas might do it, despite their recent meals. He was about to shout the instruction when one of the Reliquiae lunged for him, knocking him to the floor. She hissed in his face, her sharp teeth glistening with blood, but he managed to free his gun hand from under her body, forced the barrel of his weapon into her gaping, jagged maw, and fired repeatedly.

The shots, going straight as they did through the soft tissue of her pallet and into her brain, stunned her. She fell forward onto him, and he wriggled his way out from under her, working his way free to fire repeatedly at her head where she lay, unmoving.

'Shoot the head,' he ordered, and Mehra, Teyla and Ronon all began firing on the remaining Reliquiae, shot after shot hitting her in the face until she first sank to her knees and then keeled over completely.

The cacophony of energy weapons stopped and silence hung heavy in the air.

The Reliquia remained motionless. They had won out.

But there was no time to celebrate, nor to catch their breath. They had to move.

They began to pound their way back up through the levels, other humans now trailing not far behind them, along with some more of the Kheprians who followed when Hakkar ordered them to. Even the Birajans at the higher levels became embroiled in the panic and stampede as they stopped trying to block the humans' way or prevent them from leaving, choosing instead to exit the building with them.

The Kheprians being much larger were first out of the door, their long legs carrying them efficiently through the compound to reach the safety of the outside.

Sheppard checked his watch – five minutes to go. He pulled up near the exit to shout encouragement to the many, many humans and Birajans surging toward the exit.

'Sheppard!' he heard McKay call as he got swept out of the door.

'Go, I'll be right behind you,' he told his friends, and having little choice they allowed the flow of people to carry them through the doorway.

Only Hakkar remained with him, picking up humans who fell at the threshold where the crowd was bottle-necking and panicking, making sure no one was trampled. These were the Kheprians Goronak had spoken of. He'd been right; Akalus had been controlling them.

And then something hit Sheppard…hard.

One moment he was on his feet urging people through the door, the next he felt like a high-speed train had slammed into him. He lay on his back, stars dancing in his vision, watching a dark swirling cloud dance above him. He thought it was all in his mind, but when the stars cleared, the dark mass was still there. What the hell was this?

It whipped around, settling into something of a humanoid shape that grabbed him by the throat and lifted him from the floor. It said nothing, but somehow he knew it was telling him he couldn't leave…it wouldn't allow him to. It was a shadow of pure malice and hatred and it wasn't going to let him go.

Sheppard felt energy crackling through him from the contact, burning his skin where it touched. The other humans began to scream and push harder for the door, Hakkar now torn between keeping them moving and helping Sheppard in his struggle.

In the end, the Kheprian aimed his weapon and fired into the mass, but the pulse of energy from the gun only seemed to make the thing more powerful, and the burning pain intensified. Hakkar fired on it again, and it dropped Sheppard and surged for the Kheprian, bowling over at least a half-dozen humans that stood in its way.

The Kheprian was sent flying just as easily as Sheppard had been. Nothing seemed to stop the shadow creature.

Sheppard scrambled back to his feet, but the dark energy cloud ploughed right back into him now, knocking him flat, and then it began to drag him back along the passageway deeper into the building. If he didn't get free of it soon he was going up with the building, and while this…thing might find the power of the blast something of a pick-me-up, he seriously doubted he'd feel the same. So, he began fighting back, clawing at the floor, squirming and twisting to try to free himself from its grip, even grabbing onto door frames, making it as hard as possible for the thing to pull him back into the bowels of Phylacos.

The next thing he knew, a huge pincered hand clamped on his arm and held onto him, pulling in the opposite direction. Hakkar fired on the cloud again, and Sheppard felt the absorbed energy crackle through him too, 'Stop…firing,' he forced out through gritted teeth.

'The energy makes it stronger. You have to stop!' Rodney was there now too, having somehow forced his way back in through the throng. And Ronon was there along with him, adding his weight to the fight, swiping at the shadow energy to try to force it back. It merely surged forward, knocking them all off their feet and Sheppard loose of his death-grip on the door frame. Then it wrapped itself around him again and swept him away from them.

Sheppard yelled at the others, 'Get out…that's an order.'

Rodney hesitated, then ran for the door. But as Sheppard had feared, Ronon would not be shaken so easily. And neither, apparently would Hakkar. Both of them grabbed at him again and began a bizarre battle of tug-of-war in which Sheppard was unfortunately the rope. He felt his body strain, tendons and muscles stretched to their limits. He cried out, certain he was about to be torn in two. Seeming to realise they were causing him more problems than they were solving, Hakkar let go. But Ronon was not about to let his friend be dragged away into a building that was about to blown apart if there was anything he could do about it. He clung to Sheppard's arm while continually batting at the dark cloud wrapped around him, burning both of them where it came in contact with their skin, trying to drive it away.

Then out of the blue, a huge surge of energy exploded out of the shadow and it was gone, Sheppard and Ronon blown clear of each other by the force of the expulsion and colliding with nearby walls. Stunned, it took Sheppard a while to come back to his senses. He rolled his head to the side to see Hakkar helping Ronon to his feet, before hurrying his way and dragging him up, too. Sheppard was too numb to feel the pain he knew he should feel in his head, or the gouged arm Hakkar was lifting him up by, or the cracked ribs when Ronon got his arm around his neck and began running with him toward the door. He couldn't even feel the floor beneath his feet, or the yells of encouragement that he could see bursting out of Ronon's mouth.

And even more amazingly, he barely heard the explosions that ripped through the levels of Phylacos just beneath their feet, and the building beginning to collapse all around them…

* * *

 **A/N: Eeep! We're almost at the end of this first part of the story. Only one more chapter to go. Thanks to those of you I can't reply to directly for your reviews. They're always very welcome. :)**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

 _The steady beep of medical equipment softly urged Sheppard back into wakefulness. For a while, he kept his eyes closed and gradually let more sounds, sensations and smells seep in; the soft shuffle of shoes, hushed voices, the pull on the back of his hand of an IV line, the cool liquid in his vein, the sound of someone close by tapping on a tablet…_

 _Figuring he knew who that would be, he cracked his lids a fraction, spotting McKay sitting on the infirmary bed beside his, fully dressed in a clean Atlantis uniform, working on his tablet in silent concentration._

 _'_ _We made it back then?' he croaked, only now realising how dry his throat was._

 _'_ _Well, it's about time you woke up!' Rodney chirped, setting his tablet down beside him and hopping off the bed to hold a glass of water and straw up to Sheppard's mouth._

 _He drank gratefully, thinking it was unusually kind of Rodney to do that without even a little prompting. He figured he must really have been worried about him._

 _'_ _Teyla? Ronon?' he grunted as McKay pulled the glass away._

 _'_ _Both safe,' Rodney smiled. 'They've been taking turns sitting with you. They're probably down at the gym sparring. You know what those two are like.'_

 _He did, and yes, that wouldn't surprise him. They would be keen to get back to their peaks of physical fitness. 'And Mehra?'_

 _'_ _Well, Carson is taking good care of her, but it'll be a few months before she's back to active duty.'_

 _'_ _Wow, she'll be climbing the walls,' Sheppard snorted. He knew that because he would be too._

 _He lay his head back against the firm pillows, breathing in their freshly laundered scent, so far away from anything he'd slept on in Phylacos. He shifted his body in tiny increments, assessing his level of discomfort. His ankle throbbed and his ribs still hurt…and his right hand was bandaged and painful when he tried to flex it. Added to that a dull headache throbbed all the way across the top of his skull. Still, it wasn't so bad considering the last thing he remembered was the compound blowing up around his ears. 'Anyone else hurt?'_

 _'_ _A few scratches, nothing major,' Rodney assured him, still smiling. 'I should go get Carson. He'll want to check you over.'_

 _He scurried away, and Sheppard went back to tentatively testing out his body, one joint at a time. Lady Luck had obviously been with them if he just had a few aches and pains and the others had got away with minor contusions. He wondered how everyone else had fared – how many humans had been freed alive from Phylacos. And what had happened with the rebellion? He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye to them…he kind of regretted that after the work they'd put into giving him a chance to rescue his friends. And Mishta had begged him to come back to her…_

 _'_ _Ah, good to see those eyes open, lad,' Carson's Scottish brogue called across the room as he entered. 'Let's take a wee look at you, shall we?'_

 _The doctor ran through a battery of tests to check his vitals, seemingly satisfied with what he found as he straightened up and hooked his stethoscope around his neck. 'Well, I can honestly say, for someone who's had a building drop on their head, you're in good shape.'_

 _Behind him, Teyla and Ronon filed in, followed by…Elizabeth?_

 _Sheppard felt his jaw drop._

 _'_ _Ah, yes, I forgot to tell you,' Rodney piped up, grinning like an idiot. 'When the Kheprians brought us back we couldn't quite get the timing right. We arrived a little early.'_

 _Sheppard looked around from one grinning face to the other. 'Okaaay…'_

 _'_ _Don't suppose you'd like to tell me why your team looked so surprised to see me here?' Elizabeth asked, folding her arms and quirking an eyebrow, wearing her customary gentle smirk._

 _Was that what all the odd grinning was about? They were hinting they hadn't told Elizabeth her fate and it was their shared secret?_

 _He looked at Ronon, his face twisted into a bizarre, jokeresque smile._

 _Something felt off._

 _'_ _Uh…I just think they're really glad to be back. And so am I,' he fudged. He was glad to be back all right, but wasn't there something major missing? 'Teyla…you okay?'_

 _She blinked a couple of times, as if unsure why he would be asking her that question specifically. 'Of course. We are home and we are safe. Why would I not be happy?'_

 _Her grin remained fixed. Sheppard's blood turned to ice-water in his veins and his skin prickled. 'But what about the promise I made to you? What about Torren?'_

 _She continued to grin, looking back at him as if he'd gone mad. 'Torren?'_

 _'_ _And if we came back too early, where are the other 'us's? Shouldn't they be here, too?'_

 _'_ _Ah, now I can explain that to you, but it's all kinds of complicated physics that your concussed mind will not be able to grasp right now,' McKay interjected. The he pinned on his grin again._

 _'_ _Try me,' Sheppard growled, his growing sense of unease refusing to be side-tracked so easily._

 _'_ _You cannot hope to understand,' a phlanged voice insisted._

 _He turned his head and where Carson had once been standing beside him, Oolanae now lurked._

 _'_ _You were foolish to think you could escape us so easily.'_

 _Sheppard pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Aww crap. This isn't real.'_

 _'_ _If you think it's so ridiculous you must be dreaming – wake up.' Mishta stepped out from behind Ronon now, her face bearing her familiar scowl. 'Come on, Human. If you're asleep, wake up!'_

 _The terracotta walls of the infirmary lost their colour, then began crumbling in to chunks of grey stone, metal and dust falling around him._

 _The others were gone, along with Atlantis. Only Mishta remained, unflinching as what was left of Phylacos broke apart around her. 'Do it human. WAKE UP!'_

 _From behind her, a huge ball of flame erupted from further back in the facility, a fireball from the incendiaries he'd laid for the rebels. It rushed up to them, but she paid it no heed, not even as it engulfed her and went on to charge toward him._

 _As the flames licked at his skin, Sheppard heard the words one more time. 'WAKE UP!'_

'Sheppard! Come on! Wake up!'

It was Ronon's voice yelling to him, not Mishta's, Sheppard realised as he gradually came to his senses. He couldn't figure out where he was, only that dust clogged his nose and throat, making it hard to breathe. There was barely any light, just a flashlight beam shining his way and half-blinding him in the process. 'Ronon?' he choked, as he sucked in more gritty air.

'Sheppard…stay with me,' Ronon gruffed, his head coming into view and blocking the painfully bright beam of light. He had blood covering the right side of his face, and a gash on his right bicep that was bleeding heavily too, caking dust to his skin.

Sheppard slowly figured out that he was lying face down in their dark, cramped confines, with something weighing heavily on the lower half of him, pinning him to the ground.

'You're hurt,' Sheppard slurred, a wave of nausea coming along with his attempt to speak. He retched and began coughing fit to bring up a lung. Every breath he took in just added more debris to his already struggling airways. It took longer than it should have to bring under control.

Just as he managed to stop coughing, a shower of dust and grit rained down on them and set him off again. It was only as he brought his own coughing fit under control, that he realised he could hear other folks besides himself and Ronon wheezing and sputtering.

Ronon squeezed around him and began trying to shift whatever wreckage was pinning him down.

'What happened?' Sheppard asked, trying to move as the weight on him reduced. He cried out when fierce pain speared through his right ankle and palm. He turned his hand over to see a sizable shard of glass spiking into it.

Ronon put a hand on his back and stopped him moving then pulled the glass out, tearing off the bottom of his shirt to wrap around the wound to stem the blood. 'Facility blew before we could get out. Section of roof came down over us…stayed intact…worked like a shield when the fireball came up from the lower levels.'

It was only as Ronon gave his explanation that Sheppard realised he could smell burning. His mind conjured up horrific images of humans caught up in the conflagration, screaming as they burned alive. And he'd done that to them. He'd been so sure they could all get out. 'Anyone hurt in here?'

'Two females…sleeping,' he heard Wanless respond in broken English, realising then it was the huge Kheprian holding the flashlight. 'Hurt bad. Three more, two males and a female, wounded, still moving.' He crawled over and flipped whatever remained on top of Sheppard off him with relative ease.

'D'you get that?' Ronon asked.

'Yeah, I got it,' Sheppard replied as the various aches, throbs and lancing pains began to set in through his own body. He realised they coincided with his dream, only way, way worse. He tried to move again, but once again Ronon forced him to stay still.

'Don't move, we need to wait for help.'

'My leg,' Sheppard wheezed. 'Feels weird.'

Ronon looked down toward it, then made a slight grimace before composing his expression again. 'It's nothing. Just a scratch.'

'Like the rebar in my side at Michael's compound was just a scratch?' Sheppard replied, trying to look around at his injured limb.

Ronon grabbed his face and made him look at him. 'Stay still.'

That was when Sheppard's panic began to rise. There was something Ronon didn't want him to see. 'We need to get out. If the Reliquiae know the compound is down, they're gonna come looking for stray humans,' he said, for the time being letting the Satedan win the battle of wills.

He saw the concern register on Ronon's face. He cast a look at the Kheprian, who immediately shifted position setting down his flashlight and finding purchase anywhere he could under the ragged lower edge of the fallen roof. He attempted to lift it, causing a shower of dust to fall on them all.

Sheppard dropped his face to the floor, but it provided little relief since it was already filthy down there. He still ended up with a mouthful of debris he couldn't help but inhale and choke on.

Wanless tried again, but the roof was too heavy for him to lift alone. Ronon slid over and added his own strength to the battle, but Sheppard notice he was only using one arm, and now he could see him at a distance the one with the gash appeared to be dislocated.

Now unattended, Sheppard took a look around at his ankle; beside his foot lay some fallen blockwork he suspected was what Wanless had tipped off him, and the bottom half of his right leg was twisted at a weird angle that told him it was broken somewhere just above the ankle joint. It was hard to tell, but he thought he might be bleeding from the injury too. The fabric of his BDU leg felt warm and sticky down at that point, but he couldn't really identify exactly where that sensation was coming from over the growing intensity of the pain burning in his mangled limb.

'Sheppard!'

'John! Ronon!'

It was McKay and Teyla. The movement of the section of roof must have drawn their attention as they searched through the wreckage.

Sheppard drew in a breath to shout out, but the pain in his ribs pulled him up short with a gasp.

'We're under here!' Ronon called back to them.

'Are you all right?' Teyla asked.

'Sheppard's hurt. We need to get out. He thinks more Reliquiae might come!'

Muffled conversation from the other side of the roofing led to the sound of Mehra shouting. 'Hey, you bug dudes. Over here!'

Sheppard winced. They were going to have to work on her diplomacy skills.

Whether her request was polite or not, the Kheprians apparently understood and followed her instructions. Soon, the roof was lifting a little again, several sets of Kheprian legs coming into view in the gap between it and the floor.

'Help me move him,' Ronon barked at Wanless, the two of them grabbing an arm each and hauling Sheppard toward the opening as it rose higher and became a more feasible escape route. Sheppard gritted his teeth as his useless, broken leg dragged along behind him, battling the urge to scream his lungs out. He hated breaking bones. There was no other pain like it…except maybe bullet wounds. But he sure as hell wasn't getting himself out of there, so he put up and shut up. He could complain about his various aches and pains later once they were all safe.

As soon as they were out of their protective shell, the heat and smoke hit him. He hadn't realised the level of danger his friends were putting themselves in to get to them. Flames licked all around what remained of Phylacos, and heat and smoke hung thick at their level, making it even harder to breathe as Ronon and Wanless pulled him free.

'Get clear!' he yelled as the other humans trapped under the roof with them were either pulled or guided out of the rubble. They had no idea what was in that facility, and with fires still burning he couldn't be certain there would be no subsidiary explosions to follow as the flames spread.

To their credit, the Kheprians were doing what they could to free up humans caught in the wreckage and crying out for help. Their strength made moving fallen roof, walling and masonry relatively easy, as was lifting injured people and carrying them to a safer area.

Teyla, darted forward to help take over supporting Sheppard from Ronon as the big man dropped to his knees, unable to continue under the strain of his own injuries. But his inability to use his leg made Sheppard heavy and he could feel her buckling, her tiny, undernourished form lacking its usual strength.

And then someone else was there, someone taller and stronger that he could barely make out through the smoky haze.

'John! Tammah Oriah. Yuros veeti!'

He recognised Mishta's voice, and felt her ease Teyla out from under his right arm and take the strain upon her own shoulders. It immediately raised him higher, helping him to lift his unsupported broken ankle above the ground to reduce the impacts on it as they travelled.

Once a reasonable distance form what remained of Phylacos, Wanless and Mishta lowered him gently to the ground. The Kheprian soon disappeared, but Mishta remained there cradling his head in her lap, talking to him, soothing him. He felt water run gently over his eyes and mouth, the relief it provided from the stinging smoke and grit almost instant and oh, so good. The long drink she allowed him to take once his mouth was cleared of debris was nothing short of blissful.

She continued to talk, but he couldn't understand what she was saying without his translator. He couldn't form the sentence to explain, so tapped his ear and said, 'Broken,' hoping that was enough to make it clear.

It was, and she began to speak in relatively fluent English. 'You be all right, John. I take care of you.'

As his vision began to clear he saw two other forms had joined her. Lansha and Juroah leaned over him, their faces grim with concern.

She screamed something in Birajan at them, and Lansha shot out of sight again, his running footsteps soon lost in the midst of the chaos of fires and crying.

Juroah knelt beside her, slipping off his coat and folding it to form a pillow for his head. Mishta slid out from under him and carefully lowered his head onto the wadded fabric, proceeding to examine the various injuries she could see. Juroah pulled out his own flask of water so they could wash away any excess blood from the numerous lacerations the collapse had inflicted on his battered body. He tipped some onto Sheppard's forehead and he felt the sting of a raw, open cut there for the first time. He was honestly so beaten up he couldn't really pinpoint any once single pain until they began to treat it. Everything hurt.

Juroah spoke to Mishta, and although Sheppard couldn't tell what he was saying he could tell he was worried. She replied, then translated for him.

'I gave Juroah the enzyme we had left from this morning because we were attacked by the Reliquiae and he was dying. He says I should have kept some back, but he would have died without all of it. He's lucky I remembered I still had it with me. In all the chaos I almost forgot.'

'I'll be fine,' Sheppard croaked, giving the old guy a crooked smile. 'Takes more than a building landing on my head to finish me.'

Mishta translated for her mentor and Juroah gave a chuckle and a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Sheppard figured that meant he looked as bad as he felt.

Teyla, Rodney, Ronon and Wanless found their way to the spot where he had been deposited, the Satedan heavily dependent on the help of the others to get him there. They lowered him down beside Sheppard, and he rolled onto his back with a groan that told him Ronon felt pretty much as bad as he did. Only a short distance away, Mehra barked instructions to the Kheprians, organising them into search and rescue teams. The woman had spirit considering the pain she had to be in from her own injuries, and despite the language barrier she was making herself understood.

Rapidly thudding footfalls grew louder from somewhere nearby, and moments later Lansha dropped to his knees between the two of them, speaking in Birajan again.

Mishta was unbuttoning Sheppard's BDU shirt and pushing up his t-shirt checking for further damage. 'John's translator is broken. Speak English so he know what we do. How much synthetic skin do we have?'

Lansha looked at Sheppard's body, concern etched across his face. 'I check. I think enough.'

Sheppard felt someone take his good hand and squeeze it while Mishta got to work. He knew it was Teyla. He would recognise the grip of that hand anywhere. He closed his eyes and let them fix him up as best they could, desperately sorry for the other humans suffering there with them. If the Reliquiae hadn't come they might have stood a better chance of getting everyone out, but they'd been slowed down by the attack…that and power being reinstated. Why hadn't he considered that? And then, of course, there had been that shadow creature that had caused panic and mayhem just as escape had seemed within reach. Where the hell that had come from was anyone's guess. Some weird experiment released by the explosions, he supposed…

'Reliquiae! Ponta oustra!'

Sheppard didn't realise his mind had phased out until Juroah's shrieked order to the Kheprians woke him, a fact that was made all the more regrettable when Mishta activated some kind of shrink wrap splint for his leg that pulled tight and immobilised the broken bones. He damn near crushed Teyla's hand as it forced his broken bones into place.

'We need to get John out of here!' Mishta shouted over the growing whine of the dart's approaching engine.

'We could take the Diiro Koora,' Lansha suggested. 'It can carry many and it will move faster than our damaged craft.'

'No! We can't leave the other humans…they'll kill them,' Sheppard protested, stubbornly refusing their plan.

'If we not leave the Reliquiae will take you,' Mishta insisted, as Lansha and Juroah began trying to lift him.

'I said no!' he pulled free, falling back to the ground. 'We stay and fight.'

'We cannot, John. We are not strong enough,' Teyla warned. 'We should take as many as we can and get into hiding.'

'Listen to your friend,' Mishta pleaded. 'The Reliquiae will sweep us up without struggle. And then they use you to rise to top of order again. We not allow that to happen.'

'The disrupter!' Lansha suddenly piped up. 'It knocks out power. We can use it – take down the craft.'

'Now that sounds like a plan!' Sheppard agreed, and Mishta's brother scrambled away to retrieve the device from where they had left it.

The tension was etched into every face around him as the all too familiar while of the ship moved closer, zoning in on their position. It was coming into view in the starlight, just the first hint of white on the wing tips at it began to turn their way.

'We need to get everyone moving,' Ronon grunted, forcing himself to his feet and beginning to back off. 'Sheppard…come on!'

When Ronon and Teyla were telling him they had to leave, Sheppard knew things were bad. They were almost always in favour of staying to fight where the defence of innocents was necessary. But they had no weapons, they had no shelter, they didn't even have their health, all they had was an acute sense of danger and a desire to survive that they needed to communicate to everyone there.

'Come on, Sheppard,' Rodney pleaded. 'We just got free. You can't give up now.'

'Go…I'll be right behind you,' he nodded, 'Get everyone out of here.'

Ronon, Teyla and Mehra began to yell out instructions for people to start running, doing what they could to help them, even though Ronon was clearly struggling with huge discomfort. Rodney stayed with Sheppard a while longer. He could see in the scientist's eyes that he knew Sheppard had no intention of following, and though it looked like he wanted to beg him to change his mind, he apparently relented on that and instead gave him a rueful smile before joining his colleagues in encouraging the other humans there to get moving.

Mishta took Sheppard's uninjured hand and fixed him with an earnest stare from her violet eyes. 'Do not tell me to leave because I will not…not this time.'

He knew it would be pointless to argue with her, so didn't. She spoke with Juroah, who nodded and slapped her on the back before running to join the others who were speeding humans and Birajans on their way, all scattering from the scene like rats leaving a sinking ship.

The dart was almost upon them. The harvesting beam shot out and began sweeping, gathering up a few humans not quick enough to evade its touch.

The light disappeared, and in the darkness Sheppard watched dazed and wounded humans falling over themselves in their desperation to get away from the approaching craft.

The beam appeared again, swirling across the ground to pick up stray humans caught in its glare. It was approaching them, only a hundred yards away at most.

'Mishta…'

'No!' she asserted, gripping his hand tighter, clearly determined that if he was to be taken, she was going with him. This was crazy, he couldn't let her risk her life for him. They barely knew one another really.

'Please…go!' he yelled over the screaming engine, but she only shook her head and screwed her eyes shut as she bowed her head and waited for the beam to take them. He closed his eyes to, blinded by the brightness.

Then, through his lids, all was dark again.

The engine's whine decreased into silence and he opened his eyes to watch as the dart passed over them and continued to drift down toward the ground, crashing in an impressive explosion some distance beyond them.

He looked back at Mishta, saw the tears and a smile of relief on her face. She pulled him into a hug and refused to let go, even when Lansha joined them again with the disrupter clutched tight in his arms. 'It charging again, but we need to move everyone to safe distance.'

'Or use it to distract Reliquiae,' Mishta countered, finally relinquishing her hold on Sheppard. 'We know they use it to track us. If we send it far away, they will hopefully follow it while we get everyone to safety.'

'I take it.'

Wanless stood behind Sheppard, stretching out his pincered hand.

He spoke to Mishta and Lansha, and once again Mishta translated for Sheppard.

'He say he can use one of their craft to take to safe distance and leave it. He also say his men will use transport trucks to help move humans to safety, then will return to organise the rest of troops to search for more humans.'

Sheppard could hardly believe the alien's offer. It was selfless and empathetic in a way he had never considered the Kheprians capable of. The Birajan rebels had been right that these aliens were not truly bad. And now Phylacos was gone they were free to act in a manner that reflected their true nature.

'Give it to him. Trust him,' he told Lansha.

Lansha nodded, and passed the disrupter over to the huge Kheprian, who wasted no time in sprinting away with it, heading back into what was left of Phylacos as he yelled orders for other Kheprians to follow him.

Teyla now ran back over to them, bent double with the effort. 'Are you all right, John?'

Mishta stood and extended her hand to him. 'Let us make use of Diiro Koora. We can fit many humans aboard that and Kheprians can follow on with rest.' Juroah started after the Kheprian leader, calling to Mishta as he went. 'He say he will ride with Kheprians – show them the way,' she explained to Sheppard and his friends.

Sheppard took hold of Mishta's arm with his good hand and let her haul him upright, both she and her brother supporting him as they guided him toward the Reliquiae craft. The movement was hard and took his breath away, leaving him panting and at the point of passing out when they finally got him into a seat aboard the vessel. Ronon soon joined him, as did the other most seriously injured humans, plus a few terrified folks who could barely stand they were shaking so hard. The rest of his team opted to remain behind and assist with keeping the humans calm and organised while the Kheprians readied their vehicles and loaded humans for the trip to the rebel camp.

It was hard for Sheppard to leave them behind, but he couldn't argue. He felt like he should be there to do the job himself since he'd brought them all to this point. But he couldn't, and that fact drove him crazy.

Mishta slid in beside him and stroked his hair back from his forehead, careful to avoid the gash that now throbbed sickeningly along his hairline. 'Rest now, John. You did everything asked of you.'

He'd almost forgotten the main purpose for his mission in the carnage that had ensued. 'What about Akalus?'

She looked tense, but forced on a smile anyway. 'No one found him yet. If he not dead, he trapped and we will find him. It is over, John. Akalus not win now.'

'Not a him…it's a her. A young human girl. She was what he hid behind the suit.'

'A girl?' Mishta seemed worried as if she though the knock to his head had left some damage.

'I swear, you can ask Rodney and Mehra when they join us later. They saw her too.'

'Do not concern yourself with that now, John. If she not here with us, your friends find her amongst the humans when they loaded onto transport trucks.'

He scoured the vessel, checking every pale or bloodied face, but Geeja wasn't amongst them. With any luck, she hadn't made it out. Certain Mehra would recognise her and alert the Kheprians if Akalus did show up among the survivors, he allowed all the tension and pain in him to drain away and succumbed to sleep. He was hurt, but he'd survived. Recovery was his next mission, and the first stage of that was rest.

oooOOOooo

It was a few days later before Sheppard came back to full consciousness.

His eyes fluttered open to the sight of Lansha's shelter, the roof fabric billowing in a stiff wind that was whipping up outside. Bright sun illuminated the shelter through the open door canopy, aided a little by the lamps swinging gently in the breeze.

'John?'

There was uncertainty in Teyla's voice, as if she had watched him awaken several times before only to be disappointed.

He turned his head to the right where he'd heard her voice coming from. 'Hey, Teyla…you okay?'

She gave him a broad smile and a small laugh of relief. 'I am fine. How are you feeling?'

He hadn't really had time to think about that, but an attempt to shift position soon told him all he needed to know. 'Sore,' he admitted, falling back against his pillow.

Teyla helped him drink from a flask, before lowering his head again. 'We were quite worried for you. You had some internal damage from the building collapse, but the rebels paid for a good physician they could trust not to betray them to come and assist in your treatment. She assured us any bleeding that was taking place has been brought under control, and she has set the break in your leg and given you some kind of –' she paused, reaching for the correct terminology, 'bone regrowth augmentation therapy. She believes it will be completely healed in two weeks at the most, if not sooner.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Wow! We could use some of that back at Atlantis.'

'Yes…' She said wistfully, sadness seeping into her expression for just a short time, and he knew she was thinking about Torren. She paused a moment, and then he noticed a twinkle come into her eyes. 'Mishta worked very hard at securing the best treatment for you. She even scoured the dart crash site and other locations for enzyme, but the Reliquiae's bodies were either too damaged or had already been looted.'

'Yeah?' he hedged, certain Teyla was hinting at something, but not willing to fall into her trap. 'That was good of her.'

'She is obviously a caring woman…she has relieved me of my bedside vigil many times over the past few days…even when I have assured her I am happy to sit with you. In fact, she was most insistent that I get more rest.'

He regarded her a moment or two, watching her battle back a smile. That was an idea he needed to put an end to quickly since it had already caused him plenty of trouble. 'Now don't get excited,' he drawled casually, pretending not to think anything of Mishta's attentions. 'The only reason she's doing all this is because I saved her life and now she has to repay me until the debt is settled. It's Birajan tradition.'

'Then she adheres to their traditions most…rigorously,' she grinned, offering him the flask again. This time he took it from her, determined to do something for himself. Crappy as his body felt, the thought that he would never again find his sorry carcass thrown into a cell in Phylacos made the discomfort worthwhile.

He let Teyla have her fun, sticking out his hand and saying, 'Help me sit up. I've been lying down long enough.'

'I am not sure…'

Just as she was trying to persuade him to remain lying down, Mishta herself arrived. He felt his faced flush as Teyla beamed at him again.

A radiant smile split Mishta's face, too. 'You're awake!' she breathed, quickly schooling her features into a less delighted expression. 'I suppose you thought you should rise now the hardest work is already over.'

He frowned, confused. 'Either your English just improved a helluva lot, or someone fixed my translator, right?'

'We fitted you with a new one so we could communicate with you better again. Your friends have them too. Plus a select few of the other humans. I'm afraid we could afford to supply everyone.'

He pushed up more to try and ease himself into a sitting position. 'I don't think they'll mind. It's better than they're used to in Phylacos.'

She strode forward and took hold of his arm, let him use her strength to right himself. He swung his legs out stiffly and sat on the edge of his bed, panting as the pain in his ribs first peaked and then began to settle again.

'Should he be moving already?' Teyla asked, looking worried by his struggle.

Mishta immediately dismissed her concerns. 'The physician said he should begin to move as soon as he is able to. Bodies are not designed to be still for prolonged periods of time. Small movements will do him no harm, in fact they will be beneficial.'

She pulled out her flask and tapped it gently against his shoulder to gain his attention as he stared at his feet and concentrated on not puking. He accepted the gesture and took a drink. He didn't know what was in it, but it had a kick that woke him up even more. 'Whoa! What is that stuff?'

'A herbal brew to boost health…with a little something extra,' she shrugged. 'It will help your tissues to knit without infection.'

'You sure it's not for external use only?' he wheezed, his throat still burning.

She smirked. 'Quite sure. Drink up and stop being a baby.'

He took another big swig, feeling it burn its way down to his stomach. 'So…' he rasped, his voice now hoarse, 'bring me up to speed with what's happened while I was out.'

'The latest head count shows one hundred and twenty-two humans had made it out of Phylacos,' Mishta told him, all business now. 'Many of them were fortunate enough to escape with nothing more than cuts and bruises or whatever injuries they already bore, but those at the back of the line when the incendiaries activated suffered more serious injuries such as burns, and broken and crushed limbs. Rumours of incompletes running from the complex and heading out across the wastelands are spreading, but we can't be sure of their validity. We haven't found an incomplete alive yet, though there were a few found dead on the first day of searching the wreckage. I doubt any of them will survive for long if they're out there. Life would be hard for any human unfit to defend themselves against attack.'

He nodded, absorbing that information. 'How many dead?' he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

'Thirteen so far,' Teyla said softly, sitting beside him. 'Four others are critical, but they have been treated and are fighting.'

He swallowed hard, almost choking on the lump of guilty anxiety rising in his craw. 'What about the people in the mines?'

'The Kheprian leader mounted a search and rescue operation as soon as he'd adequately disposed of the disrupter and the heat in the wreckage of Phylacos became bearable for his people to work in,' Mishta reported. 'A Chapellan contact of ours helped us acquire tunnelling equipment to sink narrow shafts into the earth as deep down as the mines to allow in air, food and water while they clear the upper levels as quickly, and as carefully, as the situation allows. They believe there were no casualties down there as a result of the explosions. They're hoping to connect power to the main elevator shaft with the help of your friend Dr McKay soon, once they have cleared a path to the access on the upper levels.'

Sheppard watched Mishta reel it all off like a mission report, formal and tight-jawed. 'You all right?' he asked, from the look on her face completely taking her by surprise.

'I…' She hesitated, and he realised she was fighting back tears.

'Mishta?'

'We…we are conducting funeral rites for Goronak in a few hours. If you feel well enough to attend…'

Sheppard pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd been so focused on how the humans had done he hadn't thought about the old Birajan. 'Aw, crap, Mishta. I'm sorry…I didn't realise he hadn't made it.'

'You have nothing to apologise for. We were…betrayed by the Gavallan who sold us the disrupter. They put a tracking device on it that the Reliquiae could follow and they came hunting us as soon as we turned it on to build the charge. Goronak was too old to fight effectively, that is all.'

Again with the cold, clinical assessment. But he sensed there was more she wasn't telling him.

'Teyla…would you give us a minute?'

Teyla arched a quizzical eyebrow, looked toward Mishta, then smiled and nodded. 'Of course. I will be just outside.' She dipped her head respectfully to Mishta as she passed her. The smile Mishta gave in acknowledgement was rigid and controlled.

'Come over here…sit down,' Sheppard said to her, gesturing to Lansha's bed opposite him.

She shook her head. 'There is much to do. I should go…'

'You can spare me five minutes, right? We've barely spoken since the explosion.'

With a reluctant sigh, she perched herself on Lansha's bed, but stared out of the shelter's open entrance. Her whole body was stiff, her jaw clenched. She was clearly dealing with something…something she needed to talk about if he wasn't mistaken. He'd seen this kind of reaction before after a mission gone bad. Talking was the only thing that helped. And yes, he acknowledged his own hypocrisy since he was so bad at opening up himself, but this wasn't about him.

'Sounds like it got pretty rough out there after I left you,' he began, watching her face as she closed her eyes briefly as if trying to shut out her memories. 'I never got chance to ask you what happened.'

She shook her head, and he wondered at first if it was a refusal to speak, but then he realised it was more an inability to find the right words as she stammered to answer him. 'There…there were five of them,' she began, sucking in a shuddering breath. 'We…we had no hope to outrun their ship and…and stay in range of Phylacos. We knew we had to stay…stay and fight.'

He saw her hands begin to shake before she clasped them tightly between her knees to prevent the tremors. He chewed his bottom lip and resisted the urge to reach over and take hold of them.

'I have never…never seen such unmitigated violence. They attacked Lansha first…I thought he would die. I just couldn't…I couldn't protect them all. I tried –'

She broke off then and went back to staring out of the entrance, bottom lip trembling, struggling to keep her feelings in check.

Sheppard swallowed down the knot of emotion in his throat to speak to her. 'I know you will have done everything you could. Goronak would know that, too.'

'It wasn't enough…' she whispered, lost in thought.

He passed her back her flask. 'Here, I think you need this more than me.'

She took it and drank a large mouthful, closing her eyes again to savour the warmth as it worked its way down. 'He told them where to find you.'

Sheppard frowned, confused by the statement. 'Who?'

'Goronak,' she croaked, finally finding the strength to hold it together and look at him. She was angry, and that gave her the energy to tell him what was really eating at her. 'The Reliquiae had linked Lansha to you somehow, and they were attacking us, demanding to know where you were.' She let her violet eyes settle on his. 'He told them you were in Phylacos. He gave you up to them.'

Now he understood what all this was about. She felt Goronak had betrayed him. 'Mishta…I've seen the Reliquiae in action. I can only imagine what it was like out there for you guys up against five of them. It's nothing short of a miracle that any of you survived – ' He saw her involuntarily shudder as the memories invaded her mind again. 'I'm damn sure Goronak was in agony when he gave that information up to them. You can't blame him for trying to make them stop. I sure as hell don't.'

'When I saw the explosions begin, and you hadn't come out…' She dropped her head and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

She was crying.

Much as he knew he shouldn't, he somehow managed to launch himself from his own bed across to sit himself beside her. She looked startled at the sudden movement, then even more so when he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 'I'm here, aren't I? And that's all thanks to you guys.'

She slipped both her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, and he let her. It felt good…incredibly good. Even if they weren't supposed to be doing it. Or maybe because of that. And even with the aches and pains it woke in him he still chose to enjoy the moment.

Eventually, with a little persuasion on his part, they separated. She looked flushed and embarrassed, pushing loose strands of hair back off her face and refusing to look him in the eye.

'Will you come for me when it's time for Goronak's funeral?' he asked,

Her violet eyes sparked with happiness and relief. 'You wish to be there?'

'Of course. He was a good leader. Strong and fair…mostly. He gave me the chance to save the humans, and between us we already have over one hundred and twenty of them safely out of Phylacos. It would be an honour to attend.'

She smiled, standing and straightening herself out, still self-conscious. 'I think he would be honoured to have you there after what you did for us.'

He looked up at her, radiant in all her embarrassed and slightly dishevelled glory. 'I may need some help getting there.'

'And you'll have it,' she smiled. 'I should go now…Lansha will be happy to hear you have fully woken…as will your other friends. I won't keep them from you any longer.'

He watched her go, letting out a sad sigh. That woman touched him at a level no one had for a long time, and once they figured out how to get home he was going to have to leave her behind. He was beginning to think the universe was determined to keep him single.

Teyla poked her head around the doorway. 'Are you ready for some food, John?'

Was he ever. His stomach was cramping from hunger he realised now that Mishta was gone. He hadn't been conscious of it until now. 'Sure. What's on the menu?'

'Halmac broth and bread cakes. I'll bring you some.'

She disappeared, and Sheppard lunged back over to his own bed, panting through the discomfort even that limited amount of movement caused. He looked at his arms, gouged and scarred, tentatively felt the now sealed cut on his forehead, took a peak under the dressing on the bite mark the Reliquiae had left on his shoulder, and even lifted his shirt to examine the scar from his emergency surgery. His skin was an amazing array of bruise-related colours from nearly black to almost-healed yellow, but very few inches of his body didn't carry a mark of some kind. He felt like he'd been pushed under the wheels of a truck, then dragged along by it for a mile or two. But he was alive, and that was way more than he'd expected when that building had started coming down around his ears.

He lay back on the bed to wait for his meal to arrive, trying to put regrets about those he couldn't save on the backburner just for now and instead revel in the feeling of being alive and free at last.

oooOOOooo

At sunset, the Birajans stopped work to attend the funeral of their fallen elder, while the Kheprians continued to toil at the site of Phylacos' still smouldering ruins.

Mishta collected Sheppard as she had promised to. He had been provided with some clothing by Lansha since his own had been so badly damaged during the collapse of Phylacos; the smart long-sleeved tunic in dark blue and brown trousers only a shade or two lighter than black seemed appropriate for the sombre occasion. Though Lansha had arranged a seat for him, Sheppard refused, accepting instead a crutch to take the weight off his leg. He wouldn't sit out of respect. Goronak had given him the chance to save his people; he could put up with a little discomfort and fatigue in return.

Goronak's swaddled remains now lay atop a funeral pyre, awaiting the service that would send his soul to its eternal rest. It gave every human gathered there pause for thought. They were all fortunate to be alive, and this Birajan had done his part to help them gain their freedom.

Thalliah, the newly appointed lead Founder, read the final rites. He told stories of Goronak's life and achievements, and his devotion the rebellion. It turned out Goronak had led a colourful life, a life full of happiness as well as sacrifice. Finally, Thalliah reminded everyone of how proud they should be of the fact Goronak's final acts had assured the destruction of Phylacos and the salvation of so many innocents throughout the universe, before saying the words that would release his spirit from his body to make its final journey. It made Sheppard sad to think that after devoting himself to the rebellion, Goronak hadn't been alive to see them succeed in bringing down Phylacos. His death would have been somehow less cruel and untimely if he'd died knowing they had scored a victory.

Mishta stood beside Sheppard, struggling to hold back her tears. Though she covered her sadness well, he could hear the quiver in each breath she took. Putting his concerns for propriety aside, he reached over and took her hand, gripping it tightly to give her the support he knew she so badly needed. The attack had left deep scars on her psyche. She would recover, but it would take time.

Looking down at Sheppard's hand, then up into his eyes, her tears began to flow. Teyla, always empathetic and giving freely of herself, wrapped an arm around her from her other side, whispering words of support. Just further across the crowd, Sheppard caught sight of Marmotah glaring at him. He knew he was jealous, and felt a little bad for him since his father was recently dead, too, and this had to be bringing back horrible feelings of pain and guilt. But he wouldn't be intimidated into letting go of her hand. He could feel how tightly she was gripping him, dependant on his closeness for whatever reason. Marmotah's jealously would just have to boil, and hopefully he would have the good grace not to vent it right here in the middle of such a dignified service and with Mishta already so fragile.

None of the Birajans cried. Lansha had explained to him during an earlier chat that it wasn't something that came naturally to them, and clearly this show of emotions from Mishta left them baffled. Mishta buried her head into Sheppard's shoulder and sobbed out her grief. He caught sight of Lansha now, looking at him from the other side of the pyre, giving him a smile and a nod of thanks for the support he was offering his sister. Sheppard needed no thanks. Both Lansha and Mishta had risked their lives to save him from Akalus' lair, so this was the least he could do.

Following the funeral, Sheppard swiftly made his excuses and retired to Lansha's shelter, his friends accompanying him before they settled down themselves for the night. Exhausted just from the effort of standing, he stretched out on his bed, fully dressed and still in his boots, and decided that would have to be it for the night. He didn't have the energy to do any more.

'Thought you might like to know we found Geeja's body, Sir,' Mehra told him, as she stifled a yawn. Teyla had told him over their lunch that Mehra had worked tirelessly to find any humans in the rubble of Phylacos, and the strain was beginning to show.

He didn't smile, though the news pleased him. 'Guess that means the mission was an almost complete success,' he replied, closing his eyes.

'Almost?' he heard Rodney ask, puzzled.

'Thirteen dead, Rodney. I went in there with the intention of getting everyone out.'

He felt someone sit on the edge of his bed. 'You cannot blame yourself for that, John. You did all you could for them,' Teyla told him, trying to assuage his guilt.

'Doesn't make it any easier to swallow,' he sighed, then yawned, feeling sleep trying to pull him down.

'On the positive side, we're close to accessing the elevator shaft to the mines,' Rodney announced. 'And once we're there I can get power connected and start bringing up the rest of the miners.'

'Any estimates on numbers?' Sheppard asked.

'Close to a hundred,' Ronon replied.

Sheppard lifted his head at that. 'A hundred more humans? That's a lot of people to hide.'

'Especially from the Reliquiae,' Mehra added. 'If we keep them all together they're soon gonna sniff us out sooner or later.'

'We need to find somewhere secure for them,' Teyla agreed. 'We cannot stay here. We endanger the rebels just by being among them.'

'We'll figure something out once we have the miners freed,' Sheppard promised them, draping his arm across his eyes, hoping they would take the hint and give him some time to rest. His consciousness was beginning to phase in and out and he was struggling to stay with them now. He had a long way to go before he would be much help to anyone. It was time to admit he wasn't recovered yet.

'Well, once my work on the elevator shaft is done, I'm planning to work out the kinks in the Kheprian time dilation drive. And once that's done, we can start taking people home,' Rodney told them. Sheppard could hear the smug smile on his face without seeing it. He made it sound so simple, but Sheppard had a feeling that could be a long job.

'We need to compile a list of when and where everyone was taken from,' Mehra replied. 'We can't just drop them off anywhere.'

'Can I leave that with you, Mehra?' Sheppard asked.

'Uh, well…I was planning to help with the rescue some more…' she stammered, clearly not happy with the suggestion. Sheppard understood her reluctance. She was a 'get out there and do something' kind of soldier, just like he was. Data collection was too mundane to hold her interest.

'I can do that,' Teyla offered. 'It will give me something useful to do while I regain my strength.'

He had a feeling they all had a long way to go before they shook off the after effects of Phylacos, both mental and physical. 'That'd be great. I'd help, but…' he lifted his splinted leg, then lowered it carefully again, figuring it was enough to finish his sentence without needing the actual words. He yawned, and set the others off, too.

'Perhaps it's time for us all to take some rest,' Teyla thankfully announced, at last picking up on his body language. He hadn't exactly been subtle.

They agreed and said their goodnights before he listened to them leave, his consciousness again phasing in and out as he struggled to stay awake. It took him a few seconds longer to realise he wasn't alone yet, a fact confirmed when he felt Teyla take his hand in hers.

He moved his arm from his eyes to see her smiling kindly down at him. 'I knew you would come for me, John. And I know you are saddened by the deaths of the humans who did not make it out of Phylacos, but you still did a wonderful thing.'

He sighed, and gave her a grim smile of his own. 'I doubt the families of those people who didn't make it would agree.'

'Losses are inevitable when we go to war,' Teyla mused quietly. 'I have seen far too many good people die in my life. All we can do is try to learn from those losses and move on. If Rodney is right about what Akalus had planned, there was no other choice than to destroy both Akalus and her work. What you did has saved billions of lives.'

'Didn't quite get you home yet though,' he pointed out, with a crooked grin.

'I can be patient,' she replied. 'Especially since Rodney thinks he can return us to a time very close to when we were taken once he has the time dilation drive fixed. Besides, I like these new friends of yours. I think we can be happy among them here for a while.'

Sheppard, gave her hand a tight squeeze. 'You don't know how glad I am to have you guys with me. Don't get me wrong; the rebels are nice, but they haven't seen many humans and the phrase _personal space_ has no meaning for them.'

'Well, at the risk of invading your 'personal space...' She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'Thank you for everything you did. I know you will take me home to Torren one day.'

His face glowed into life, heat burning in his cheeks. 'I'd have done the same for any of you, you know that.'

She smiled sweetly. 'I do.'

He noticed someone slipping in through the entrance behind her. He half-expected it to be Mishta checking in on him, but it was one of the other Birajans, a face Sheppard vaguely recalled from the various meetings he'd attended.

'I'm sorry to interrupt,' the male said, his tone a little odd because it didn't really sound like an apology.

'That's okay,' Sheppard replied, forcing on a smile. 'Do you need something?'

'Yes – the woman.'

The Birajan pulled a pulse gun on Sheppard, an unspoken instruction that he shouldn't move.

'Who are you? What do you want with me?' Teyla demanded, rising slowly as he swung the gun in her direction.

Sheppard sat up, drawing the weapon's point back to him. 'Why do you want her? These humans are free, you can take any of us for trade.'

'I do not do this for trade,' the Birajan assured him, rummaging in his pocket while keeping his eyes fixed on the both of them. He pulled out a box. 'I'm sorry to do this at all, but my prince gave me instructions I cannot disobey.'

'What is that?' Teyla asked, eyeing the box dubiously.

'You will see,' he assured her. He walked slowly toward her, holding it at arm's length.

'Back it up, buddy,' Sheppard said, forcing himself to his feet despite his injury.

The gun rose to face level. 'Do not move again or I _will_ shoot you.'

'Stay where you are, John,' Teyla said calmly. 'I can handle this.'

As the Birajan fumbled one-handed with the box, she batted it away and struck him hard under his jaw with the heel of her hand. His weapon fired, just missing Sheppard, but sending a pulse close enough to shake him off his feet. Teyla leapt on the Birajan and punched him again, trying to force him to release his gun.

Sheppard saw the box the Birajan had dropped positioned between him and the intruder. He tried to lunge for it, but he wasn't quick enough, the Birajan snatching it up and activating it before either he could lay hands on it or Teyla could land another blow. In a blinding flash, Teyla disappeared and the Intruder was on his feet and bolting for the entrance. 'Just stay where you are and you won't be hurt, Human.'

As the assailant flung open the entrance flap, Sheppard caught sight of Mishta behind the Birajan. Her sharp mind quickly figured something was wrong and she pounced on him, wrapping an arm around his neck, and trying to drag him down to the ground to disarm him. But the intruder wasn't fazed, pointing his weapon behind his back and releasing a pulse straight into her abdomen.

Mishta instantly dropped to the ground, all this before the entrance flap had even had time to settle back into place.

'No!' Sheppard yelled, lunging for the doorway and falling beside her. 'Stop him!' he yelled, as he checked Mishta for a pulse, wondering if he even knew the right place to find one in a hybrid. Thankfully, he found it, and though it was very weak, it still beat. He tried to rise and follow her attacker, but his leg could not take his weight again and he spilled to the ground on his hands and knees.

The Birajan darted away into the distance, no one able to get near him as he fired his weapon randomly all around to keep them at bay. Even Ronon couldn't catch him; a shot fired by the fleeing Birajan hit his legs, taking them out from beneath him and sending him crashing to the ground. Before anyone could reach him, Sheppard saw the Birajan leap into a transporter and set off. Some of the other rebels jumped into vehicles and tried to follow, but his speed soon left them far behind. He clearly knew which of them was the fastest and he left them trailing in his wake.

Not knowing what else to do, Sheppard crawled back to where Mishta had fallen, Ronon's agonised scream of frustration filling the camp as he once again checked her vitals.

Lansha appeared beside him, dropping to his knees. 'Mishta! What happened?'

'One of your people walked into our shelter and took Teyla. Mishta tried to stop him and he shot her,' he explained, feeling for her pulse again. It was still there…barely…but she was completely unresponsive. 'Mishta? Mishta, can you hear me?'

Nothing. He felt like his heart might actually stop.

Lansha scooped his sister's limp body up into his arms and carried her to his tent, calling for medical supplies. Juroah came bolting over as soon as he saw her, crying out her name. He stroked her face as Lansha kept walking, his voice cracking in as close to an emotional reaction as Sheppard had seen from either of them. Mishta was like a daughter to him, he'd seen that in just the few days he'd shared their lives.

Sheppard didn't follow them. Lansha and Juroah would take care of Mishta better than anyone else could; he would be no help in his current state. He couldn't even stand on his own he realised as he tried to follow. He almost rose, but dropped back down to his hands and knees as pain lanced through his side and ankle. His body hadn't been ready for the strain he'd put it under. Now it refused to comply.

Rodney and Mehra came stumbling over now, drawn out of cover by all the commotion. 'What happened? Where's Teyla?' Rodney asked, his wide eyes darting around the camp looking for any sign of her.

'I don't know,' Sheppard replied, his voice little more than a whisper. 'He took her.'

'Who?' Rodney asked, looking around again. 'Who took her?'

'A Birajan – one of the rebels. He made her disappear. Don't ask me how it works, I just know he has her!' Sheppard spat back, too tired and weak to be civil.

'Where'd he go?' Mehra demanded, looking around and spotting Ronon some twenty yards away.

'He took off in a speeder...' Sheppard said, his voice trailing off as he went over the incident in his head, wondering if he could have handled it differently. Mehra darted over to Ronon, checking him over as he continued to growl and yell out his anger and despair.

A group of female Birajans rushed over and fussed around them all, helping Sheppard back to his feet and ushering them all back under cover with promises the men folk would find the perpetrator, and warnings that it wasn't safe for them to be out in the open considering their worth in these parts. He wanted to tell them to go to hell, but knew he had no choice but to wait in camp for news. He allowed them to support him as he limped toward cover, all the time watching the darkening horizon as the secondary sun sank for the night.

Stunned by the suddenness of Teyla's abduction, they all allowed themselves to be steered back into their tent. The transporters were all out pursuing the abductor, so all they could do was wait for news. As he dipped into the entrance of the shelter Rodney and Ronon were sharing along with a handful of other humans, Sheppard looked back to see Lansha emerge from his dwelling, clearly distressed. Had Mishta succumbed to the force of the pulse? He tried to approach, to find out how she was doing, but Lansha told him he could not stay and talk, that he had to hail the physician to come see her.

One of the females intervened, steering Sheppard back toward his friends. 'She will be well cared for. Lansha will see to that. You cannot go to her –' she glanced around at a bustling group heading toward Lansha's shelter, at the centre of which was a clearly furious Marmotah, demanding to be allowed to see Mishta. ' – it is not your place.'

Torn between his need to check on Mishta, and his desire to avoid causing more anxiety for Lansha, Sheppard stopped his attempt to reach her and let the female push him toward the shelter where his friends waited for him. What the Birajan female said was true. He had no right to see her. Mishta was committed to another, and tradition governed everything in this camp. It would be improper to insist, no matter how much his heart ached with the need to make sure she was going to be all right. He ducked back into the tent and, exhausted and in pain, he curled up on a bed, shutting out reality and the questions of his companions for at least a short time. He couldn't do anything right now, but if he rested he would be ready to act when the time arose for him to do so.

His promise to Teyla was the reason he'd been so determined to go back to Phylacos to save the humans, and now she'd been snatched away right from under their noses. She was worth a lot in these parts, as were all humans. Out here, they were precious commodities; her kidnapper could sell her on within hours, a process that could be repeated several times over to satisfy the greed of traders, and they might never be able to trace her. Every one of them faced that risk in this world. Their survival was at risk, and their futures uncertain. None of them knew what lay ahead for them.

But there was one thing he knew he could control, and Sheppard swore to himself as he listened to Ronon's railing and Rodney's pained exasperation that he wasn't going home without her.

THE END...FOR NOW

* * *

 **A/N: And there you have it! I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger, but I will write the second part, I promise. I've already made a start, in fact. I hope you all enjoyed it so far, and ass always, thank you to everyone who left reviews to show support during this story. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment. Lastly, I want to thank Sterenyk Strey and lizlou57 for betaing for me. Their help is always invaluable. Take care, and I hope not to keep you all waiting too long to find out how this all ends. :)**


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